































































THREE 


FEATHERS. 


31 Wovd. 


J 

By WILLIAM BLACK, 

AUTHOR OF 

“THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A PHAETON,” “A PRINCESS OF THULE, 
“KILMENY,” “A DAUGHTER OF HETH,” “MADCAP VIOLET,” &c. 



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NEW YORK: 


HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 

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FRANKLIN SQUARE. 

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CONTENTS 


Chapter Pag* 

I. Master Harry 9 

II. Jim Crow 16 

III. Res Angust,® Domi 24 

IV. The Last Look Back 38 

V. Throwing a Fly 49 

VI. The among the Tailors 54 

VII. Some New Experiences 63 

VIII. Wenna’s First Triumph 69 

IX. The Ring op Evil Omen 74 

X. The Snares of London 81 

XI. The Two Pictures 89 

XII. The Chain Tightens 95 

XIII. An Unexpected Convert 102 

XIV. “Sie bat so Sanft, so Lieblich 106 

XV. A Leave-taking of Lovers 112 

XVI. The Fair Spring-time 121 

XVII. Only a Basket of Primroses 129 

XVIII. Confidences 137 

XIX. The First Message Home 142 




Vlll 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter Pagb 

XX. Tintagel’s Walls 147 

XXI. Confession 162 

XXII. On Wings of Hope 169 

XXIII. Love-making at Land’s End 174 

XXIV. The Cut Direct 185 

XXV. Not the Last Word 192 

XXVI. A Perilous Truce 198 

XXVII. Further Entanglements 208 

XXVIII. Farewell! 211 

XXIX. Mabyn Dreams 221 

XXX. Fern in die Welt 231 

XXXI. “Blue is the Sweetest” 239 

XXXII. The Exile’s Return 245 

XXXIII. Some Old Friends 255 

XXXIV. A Dark Conspiracy 268 

XXXV. Under the White Stars 278 

XXXVI. Into Captivity 287 

XXXVII. An Angry Interview 295 

XXXVIII. The Old Half-forgotten Joke 301 

XXXIX. New Ambitions 307 

XL. An Old Lady’s Apology 317 


THREE FEATHERS 


CHAPTER I. 

MASTER HARRY. 

“You are a wicked boy, Harry,” said a delightful old lady of 
seventy, with pink cheeks, silvery hair, and bright eyes, to a tall 
and handsome lad of twenty, “ and you will break your mother’s 
heart. But it’s the way of all you Trelyons. Good looks, bad 
temper, plenty of money, and the maddest fashion of spending it 
— there you are, the whole of you. Why won’t you go into the 
house ?” 

“It’s a nice house to go into, ain’t it?” said the boy, with a 
rude laugh. “ Look at it !” 

It was, indeed, a nice house — a quaint, old-fashioned, strongly- 
built place, that had withstood the western gales for some hundred 
and fifty years. And it was set amid beautiful trees, and it over- 
looked a picturesque little valley, and from the garden terrace 
in front of it you could catch a glimpse of a tiny harbor on the 
Cornish coast, with its line of blue water passing out through the 
black rocks to the sea beyond. 

“And why shouldn’t the blinds be down?” said the old lady. 
“ It’s the anniversary of your father’s death.” 

“ It’s always the anniversary of somebody’s death,” her grand- 
son said, impatiently flicking at a standard rose with his riding- 
switch ; “ and it’s nothing but snivel, snivel, from morning till 
night, with the droning of the organ in the chapel, and the burning 
of incense all about the place, and everybody and everything dress- 
ed in black, and the whole house haunted by parsons. The par- 
sons about the neighborhood ain’t enough — they must come from 


10 


THREE FEATHERS. 


all parts of the country, and you run against ’em in the hall, and 
you knock them over when you’re riding out at the gate, and just 
when you expect to get a pheasant or two at the place you know, 
out jumps a brace of parsons that have been picking brambles.” 

“ Harry, Harry, where do you expect to go to, if you hate the 
parsons so?” the old lady said; but there was scarcely that ear- 
nestness of reproof in her tone that ought to have been there. 
“ And yet it’s the way of all you Trelyons. Did I ever tell you 
how your grandfather hunted poor Mr. Pascoe that winter night ? 
Dear, dear, what a jealous man your grandfather was at that time, 
to be sure ! And when I told him that John Pascoe had been 
carrying stories to my father, and how that he (your grandfather) 
was to be forbidden the house, dear me, what a passion he was in! 
He wouldn’t come near the house after that; but one night, as 
Mr. Pascoe was walking home, your grandfather rode after him 
and overtook him, and called out , 4 Look here, sir ! you have been 
telling lies about me. I respect your cloth, and I won’t lay a 
hand on you ; but, by the Lord, I will hunt you till there isn’t a 
rag on your back ?’ And sure enough he did ; and when poor 
Mr. Pascoe understood what he meant he was nearly out of his 
wits, and off he went over the fields, and over the walls, and across 
the ditches, with your grandfather after him, driving his horse at 
him when he stopped, and only shouting with laughter in answer 
to his cries and prayers. Dear, dear, what a to-do there was all 
over the country-side after that ; and your grandfather durstn’t 
come near the house — or he was too proud to come ; but we got 
married for all that — oh yes ! we got married for all that.” 

The old lady laughed in her quiet way. 

“You were too good for a parson, grandmother, I’ll be bound,” 
said Master Harry Trelyon. “You are one of the right sort, you 
are. If I could find any girl, now, like what you were then, see 
if I wouldn’t try to get her for a wife.” 

“ Oh yes !” said the old lady, vastly pleased, and smiling a little ; 
“ there were two or three of your opinion at that time, Harry. 
Many a time I feared they would be the death of each other. And 
I never could have made up my mind, I do believe, if your grand- 
father hadn’t come in among them to settle the question. It was 
all over with me then. It’s the way of you Trelyons ; you never 
give a poor girl a chance. It isn’t ask and have — it’s come and 
take ; and so a girl becomes a Trelyon before she knows where 


MASTER HARRY. 


11 


she is. Dear, dear, what a fine man your grandfather was, to be 
sure; and such a pleasant, frank, good-natured way as he had 
with him. Nobody could say No twice to him. The girls were 
all wild about him ; and the story there was about our marriage ! 
Yes, indeed, I was mad about him too, only that he was just as 
mad about me ; and that night of the ball, when my father was 
angry because I would not dance, and when all the young men 
could not understand it, for how did they know that your grand- 
father was out in the garden, and asking nothing less than that I 
should run away with him there and then to Gretna ? Why, the 
men of that time had some spirit, lad, and the girls, too, I can 
tell you ; and I couldn’t say No to him, and away we went just 
before daylight, and I in my ball-dress, sure enough, and we never 
stopped till we got to Exeter. And then the fight for fresh horses, 
and off again ; and your grandfather had such a way with him, 
Harry, that the silliest of girls would have plucked up her spirits ! 
And oh ! the money he scattered to get the best of the horses at 
the posting-houses ; for, of course, we knew that my father was 
close after us, and if he overtook us, then a convent in France for 
me, and good-bye to George Trelyon — ” 

“ Well, grandmother, don’t stop !” cried the lad before her. He 
had heard the story a hundred times, but he could have heard it 
another hundred times, merely to see the light that lit up the 
beautiful old face. 

“ We didn’t stop, you booby !” she said, mistaking his remark ; 
“ stopping wasn’t for George Trelyon. And oh ! that morning as 
we drove into Carlisle, and we looked back, and there, sure enough, 
was my father’s carriage a long way off. Your grandfather swore, 
Harry — yes, he did ; and well it might make a man swear. For 
our horses were dead beat, and before we should have time to 
change my father would be up to claim me. But there ! it was 
the luckiest thing that ever happened to me, for who could have 
expected to find old Lady MacGorman at the door of the hotel, 
just getting into her carriage ; and when she saw me she stared, 
and I was in such a fright I couldn’t speak ; and she called out, 
‘ Good heavens, child, why did you run away in your ball-dress ? 
And who’s the man V ‘ His name, madam,’ said I, ‘ is George 
Trelyon.’ For by this time he was in the yard, raging about 
horses. ‘ A nephew of the Admiral, isn’t he V she says ; and I told 
her he was ; and then quick as lightning what does she do but 


12 


THREE FEATHERS. 


whip around into the yard, get hold of your grandfather, my dear, 
and bundle both of us into her own carriage ! Harry, my father’s 
carriage was at the end of the street, as I am a living woman. 
And just as we drove off we heard that dear, good, kind old creat- 
ure call out to the people around, ‘ Five guineas apiece to you 
if you keep back the old gentleman’s carriage for an hour !’ and 
such a laughing as your grandfather had as we drove down the 
streets and over the bridge, and up the hill, and out the level lanes. 
Dear, dear, I can see the country now. I can remember every 
hedge, and the two rivers we crossed, and the hills up in the 
north ; and all the time your grandfather kept up the laugh, for 
he saw I was frightened. And there we were wedded, sure enough, 
and all in good time, for Lady MacGorman’s guineas had saved 
us, so that we were actually driving back again when we saw my 
father’s carriage coming along the road — at no great speed to be 
sure, for one of the horses was lame and the other had cast a 
shoe — all the result of that good old creature’s money. And then 
I said to your grandfather, ‘What shall we do, George?’ ‘We 
shall have to stand and deliver, Sue !’ says he ; and with that he 
had the horses pulled up, and we got out. And when my father 
came up he got out, too, and George took me by the hand — there 
was no more laughing now, I can tell you, for it was but natural 
I should cry a bit — and he took off his hat, and led me forward 
to my father. I don’t know what he said, I was in such a fright ; 
but I know that my father looked at him for a minute — and 
George was standing rather abashed, perhaps, but then so hand- 
some he looked, and so good-natured ! — and then my father burst 
into a roar of laughter, and came forward and shook him by the 
hand ; and all that he would say then, or at any other time to the 
day of his death, was only this — ‘ By Jupiter, sir, that was a devil- 
ish good pair that took you straight on end to Exeter !’ ” 

“ I scarcely remember my grandfather,” the boy said ; “ but he 
couldn’t have been a handsomer man than my father, nor a better 
man either.” 

“I don’t say that,” the old lady observed, candidly. “Your 
father was just such another. ‘ Like father, like son,’ they used 
to say when he was a boy. But then, you see, your father would 
go and choose a wife for himself in spite of everybody, just like 
all you Trelyons, and so — ” 

But she remembered, and checked herself. She began to tell 


MASTER HARRY. 


13 


the lad in how far he resembled his grandfather in appearance, 
and he accepted these descriptions of his features and figure in a 
heedless manner, as of one who had grown too familiar with the 
fact of his being handsome to care about it. Had not every one 
paid him compliments, more or less indirect, from his cradle up- 
ward ! He was, indeed, all that the old lady would have desired 
to see in a Trelyon — tall, square-shouldered, clean-limbed, with 
dark gray eyes set under black eyelashes, a somewhat aquiline 
nose, proud and well-cut lips, a handsome forehead, and a com- 
plexion which might have been pale but for its having been 
bronzed by constant exposure to sun and weather. There was 
something very winning about his face, when he chose to be win- 
ning ; and when he laughed, the laughter, being quite honest and 
careless and musical, was delightful to hear. With all these per- 
sonal advantages, joined to a fairly quick intelligence and a ready 
sympathy, Master Harry Trelyon ought to have been a universal 
favorite. So far from that being the case, a section of the per- 
sons whom he met, and whom he shocked by his rudeness, quickly 
dismissed him as an irreclaimable cub ; another section, with whom 
he was on better terms, considered him a bad-tempered lad, shook 
their heads in a humorous fashion over his mother’s trials, and 
were inclined to keep out of his way ; while the best of his friends 
endeavored to throw the blame of his faults on his bringing up, 
and maintained that he had many good qualities if only they had 
been properly developed. The only thing certain about these 
various criticisms was that they did not concern very much the 
subject of them. 

“ And if I am like my grandfather,” he said, good-naturedly, 
to the old lady, who was seated in a garden-chair, “ why don’t you 
get me a wife such as he had ?” 

“ You ? A wife ?” she repeated, indignantly ; remembering 
that, after all, to praise the good looks and excuse the hot-head- 
edness of the Trelyons was not precisely the teaching this young 
man needed. “You take a wife? Why, what girl would have 
you ? You are a mere booby. You can scarcely write your name. 
George Trelyon was a gentleman, sir. He could converse in six 
languages — ” 

“ And swear considerably in one, I’ve heard,” the lad said, with 
an impertinent laugh. 

“ You take a wife ? I believe the stable-boys are better educated 


14 


THREE FEATHERS. 


than you are in manners, as well as in learning. All you are fit 
for is to become a horse-breaker to a cavalry regiment, or a game- 
keeper ; and I do believe it is that old wretch, Pentecost Luke, 
who has ruined you. Oh ! I heard how Master Harry used to 
defy his governess, and would say nothing to her for days to- 
gether, but — 

‘ As I was going to St. Ives, 

I met fifty old wives.’ 

Then old Luke had to be brought in, and Luke’s cure for stub- 
bornness was to give the brat a gun and teach him to shoot star- 
lings. Oh ! I know the whole story, my son, though I wasn’t in 
Cornwall at the time. And then Master Harry must be sent to 
school; but two days afterwards Master Harry is discovered at 
the edge of a wood, coolly seated with a gun in his hand, waiting 
for his ferrets to drive out the rabbits. Then Master Harry is 
furnished with a private tutor; but a parcel of gunpowder is 
found below the gentleman’s chair, with the heads of several lu- 
cifer matches lying about. So Master Harry is allowed to have 
his own way ; and his master and preceptor is a lying old game- 
keeper, and Master Harry can’t read a page out of a book, but he 
can snare birds, and stuff fish, and catch butterflies, and go cliff- 
hunting on a horse that is bound to break his neck some day. 
Why, sir, what do you think a girl would have to say to you if 
you married her ? She would expect you to take her into society ; 
she would expect you to be agreeable in your manners, and be 
able to talk to people. Do you think she would care about your 
cunning ways of catching birds, as if you were a cat or a sparrow- 
hawk ?” 

He only flicked at the rose, and laughed ; lecturing had but 
little effect on him. 

% 

“Do you think a girl would come to a house like this — one 
half of it filled with dogs and birds and squirrels, and what not, 
the other furnished like a chapel in a cemetery ? A combination 
of a church and a menagerie, that’s what I call it.” 

“Grandmother,” he said, “these parsons have been stuffing 
your head full of nonsense about me.” 

“ Have they ?” said the old lady, sharply, and eying him keen- 
ly. “Are you sure it is all nonsense? You talk of marrying — 
and you know that no girl of your station in life would look at 
you. What about that public-house in the village, and the two 
girls there, and your constant visits ?” 


MASTER HARRY. 


15 


He turned around with a quick look of anger in his face. 

“ Who told you such infamous stories ? I suppose one of the 
cringing, sneaking, white-livered — Bah !” 

He switched the head off the rose and strode away, saying, as 
he went — 

“Grandmother, you mustn’t stay here long. The air of the 
place affects even you. Another week of it, and you’ll be as mean 
as the rest of them.” 

But he was in a very bad temper, despite his careless gait. 
There was a scowl on the handsome and boyish face that was not 
pleasant to see. He walked around to the stables, kicked about 
the yard while his horse was being saddled, and then rode out of 
the grounds and along the highway, until he went clattering 
down the steep and stony main street of Eglosilyan. 

The children knew well this black horse ; they had a supersti- 
tious fear of him, and they used to scurry into the cottages when 
his wild rider, who seldom tightened rein, rode down the pre- 
cipitous thoroughfare. But just at this moment, when young 
Trelyon was paying little heed as to where he was going, a small, 
white-haired bundle of humanity came running out of a doorway, 
and stumbled, and fell right in the way of the horse. The lad 
was a good rider, but all the pulling up in the world could not 
prevent the forefeet of the horse, as they were shot out into the 
stones, from rolling over that round bundle of clothes. Trelyon 
leaped to the ground and caught up the child, who stared at him 
with big, blue, frightened eyes. 

“ It’s you, young Pentecost, is it ? And what the dickens do 
you mean by trying to knock over my horse, eh ?” 

The small boy was terrified, but quite obviously not hurt a bit ; 
and his captor, leading the horse with one hand and affixing the 
bridle to the door, carried him into the cottage. “ Well, Mother 
Luke,” said young Trelyon, “ I know you’ve got too many chil- 
dren, but do you expect that I’m going to put them out of the 
way for you?” 

She uttered a little scream, and caught at the boy. 

“ Oh ! there’s no harm done ; but I suppose I must give him a 
couple of sovereigns because he nearly frightened me out of my 
wits. Poor little kid ! It’s hard on him that you should have 
given him such a name. I suppose you thought it was Cornish 
because it begins with Pm.” 


16 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“You knaw ’twere his vather’s name, Maaster Harry,” said Mrs. 
Luke, smiling, as she saw that the child’s chubby fingers were 
being closed over two bright gold pieces. 

Just at that moment Master Harry, his eyes having got accus- 
tomed to the twilight of the kitchen, perceived that among the 
little crowd of children, at the fireside end, a young lady was sit- 
ting. She was an insignificant little person, with dark eyes ; she 
had a slate in her hand ; the children were around her in a circle. 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Wenna !” the young man said, 
removing his hat quickly, and blushing all over his handsome 
face. “ I did not see you in the dark. Is your father at the inn ? 
— I was going to see him. I hope I haven’t frightened you.” 

“Yes, my father has come back from Plymouth,” said the 
young lady, quietly, and without rising. “And I think you 
might be a little more careful in riding through the village, Mr. 
Trelyon.” 

“ Good-morning,” he said. “ Take better care of Master Pente- 
cost, Mother Luke.” And with that he went out and got into 
the saddle again, and set off to ride down to the inn, not quite 
so recklessly as heretofore. 


CHAPTER II. 

JIM CROW. 

When Miss Wenna, or Morwenna, as her mother in a freak of 
romanticism had called her, had finished her teaching, and had 
inspected some fashioning of garments in which Mrs. Luke was 
engaged, she put on her light shawl and her hat, and went out 
into the fresh air. She was now standing in the main street of 
Eglosilyan; and there were houses right down below her, and 
houses far above her, but a stranger would have been puzzled to 
say where this odd little village began and ended. For it was 
built in a straggling fashion on the sides of two little ravines ; 
and the small stone cottages were so curiously scattered among 
the trees, and the plots of gardens were so curiously banked up 
with walls that were smothered in wild flowers, that you could 
only decide which was the main thoroughfare by the presence 


JIM CROW. 


17 


there of two gray-stone chapels — one the Wesley ans’ Ebenezer, the 
other the Bible Christians’. The churches were far away on the 
uplands, where they were seen like towers along the bleak cliffs 
by the passing sailors. But perhaps Eglosilyan proper ought to 
be considered as lying down in the hollow, where the two ravines 
converged. For here was the chief inn ; and here was the overshot 
flour-mill ; and here was the strange little harbor, tortuous, narrow, 
and deep, into which one or two heavy coasters came for slate, 
bringing with them timber and coal. Eglosilyan is certainly a 
picturesque place ; but one’s difficulty is to get anything like a 
proper view of it. The black and mighty cliffs at the mouth of 
the harbor, where the Atlantic seethes and boils in the calmest 
weather, the beautiful blue-green water under the rocks and along 
the stone quays, the quaint bridge, and the mill, are pleasant to 
look at ; but where is Eglosilyan ? Then if you go up one of the 
ravines, and get among the old houses, with their tree-fuchsias 
and hydrangeas and marigolds, and lumps of white quartz in the 
quaint little gardens, you find yourself looking down the chimneys 
of one portion of Eglosilyan, and looking up to the doorsteps of 
another — everywhere a confusion of hewn rock and natural terrace 
and stone walls, and bushes and hart’s-tongue fern. Some thought 
that the Trelyon Arms should be considered the natural centre of 
Eglosilyan ; but you could not see half a dozen houses from any 
of its windows. Others would have given the post of honor to 
the National School, which had been there since 1843 ; but it was 
up in a by-street, and could only be approached by a flight of 
steps cut in the slate wall that banked up the garden in front of 
it. Others, for reasons which need not be mentioned, held that 
the most important part of Eglosilyan was the Napoleon Hotel — 
a humble little pot-house, frequented by the workers in the slate- 
quarries, who came there to discuss the affairs of the nation and 
hear the news. Anyhow, Eglosilyan was a green, bright, rugged, 
and picturesque little place, oftentimes wet with the western rains, 
and at all times fresh and sweet with the moist breezes from the 
Atlantic. 

Miss Wenna went neither down the street nor up the street, but 
took a rough and narrow little path leading by some of the cot- 
tages to the cliffs overlooking the sea. There was a sound of 
music in the air ; and by and by she came in sight of an elderly 
man, who, standing in an odd little donkey-cart, and holding the 
2 


18 


THREE FEATHERS. 


reins in one hand, held with the other a cornopean, which he 
played with great skill. No one in Eglosilyan could tell precisely 
whether Michael Jago had been bugler to some regiment, or had 
acquired his knowledge of the cornopean in a travelling show; 
but everybody liked to hear the cheerful sound, and came out to 
the cottage-door to welcome him, as he went from village to vil- 
lage with his cart, whether they wanted to buy suet or not. And 
now, as Miss Wenna saw him approach, he was playing “ The 
Girl I left Behind Me,” and as there was no one about to listen to 
him, the pathos of certain parts, and the florid and skilful execu- 
tion of others, showed that Mr. Jago had a true love for music, 
and did not merely use it to advertise his wares. 

“ Good-morning to you, Mr. Jago,” said Miss Wenna, as he 
came up. 

“’Marnin, Miss Rosewarne,” he said, taking down his cor- 
nopean. 

“ This is a narrow road for your cart.” 

“ ’Tain’t a very good way ; but bless you, me and my donkey 
we’re used to any zart of a road. I dii believe we could go down 
to the bache, down the face of Black Cliff.” 

“ Mr. Jago, I want to say something to you. If you are deal- 
ing with old Mother Keam to-day, you’ll give her a good extra 
bit, won’t you ? And so with Mrs. Geswetherick, for she has had 
no letter from her son now for three months. And this will pay 
you, and you’ll say nothing about it, you know.” 

She put the coin in his hand — it was an arrangement of old 
standing between the two. 

“ Well, yii be a good young lady ; yaas, yu be,” he said, as he 
drove on ; and then she heard him announcing his arrival to the 
people of Eglosilyan by playing, in a very elaborate manner, 
“ Love’s Young Dream.” 

The solitary young lady who was taking her morning walk now 
left this rugged road, and found herself on the bleak and high 
uplands of the coast. Over there was the sea — a fair summer 
sea ; and down into the southwest stretched a tall line of cliff, 
black, precipitous, and jagged, around the base of which even this 
blue sea was churned into seething masses of white. Close by 
was a church ; and the very gravestones were propped up, so that 
they should withstand the force of the gales that sweep over those 
windy plains. 


JIM CROW. 


19 


She went across the uplands, and passed down to a narrow neck 
of rock, which connected with the mainland a huge projecting 
promontory, on the summit of which was a square and strongly- 
built tower. On both sides of this ledge of rock the sea from 
below passed into narrow channels, and roared into gigantic caves ; 
but when once you had ascended again to the summit of the tall 
projecting cliff, the distance softened the sound into a low con- 
tinuous murmur, and the motion of the waves beneath you was 
only visible in the presence of that white foam where the black 
cliffs met the blue sea. 

She went out pretty nearly to the verge of the cliff, where the 
close, short, wind-swept sea-grass gave way to immense and ragged 
masses of rock, descending sheer into the waves below ; and here 
she sat down, and took out a book, and began to read. But her 
thoughts were busier than her eyes. Her attention would stray 
away from the page before her to the empty blue sea, where 
scarcely a sail was to be seen, and to the far headlands lying un- 
der the white of the summer sky. One of these headlands was 
Tintagel ; and close by were the ruins of the great castle, where 
Uther Pendragon kept his state, where the mystic Arthur was 
born, where the brave Sir Tristram went to see his true love, La 
Belle Isoulde. All that world had vanished and gone into silence ; 
could anything be more mute and still than these bare uplands 
out at the end of the world, these voiceless cliffs, and the empty 
circle of the sea? The sun was hot on the rocks beneath her, 
where the pink quartz lay incrusted among the slate ; but there 
was scarcely the hum of an insect to break the stillness, and the 
only sign of life about .was the circling of one or two sea-birds, so 
far below her that their cries could not be heard. 

“Yes, it was a long time ago,” the girl was thinking, as the 
book lay unheeded on her knee. “A sort of mist covers it now, 
and the knights seem great and tall men as you think of them 
riding through the fog, almost in silence. But then there were 
the brighter days, when the tournaments were held, and the sun 
shone out, and the noble ladies wore rich colors, and every one 
came to see how beautiful they were. And how fine it must have 
been to have sat there, and have all the knights ready to fight for 
you, and glad when you gave them a bit of ribbon or a smile ! 
And in these days, too, it must be a fine thing to be a noble lady, 
and beautiful and tall, like a princess ; and to go among the poor 


20 


THREE FEATHERS. 


people, putting everything to rights, because you have lots of 
money, and because the roughest of the men look up to you, and 
think you a queen, and will do anything you ask. What a happy 
life a grand and beautiful lady must have, when she is tall and 
fair-haired, and sweet in her manner ; and every one around her is 
pleased to serve her, and she can do a kindness by merely saying 
a word to the poor people ! But if you are only Jim Crow ! 
There’s Mabyn, now, she is everybody’s favorite because she is so 
pretty ; and whatever she does, that is always beautiful and grace- 
ful, because she is so. Father never calls her Jim Crow. And I 
ought to be jealous of her, for every one praises her, and mere 
strangers ask for her photograph ; and Mr. Roscorla always writes 
to her, and Mr. Trelyon stuffed those squirrels for her, though he 
never offered to stuff squirrels for me. But I cannot be jealous of 
Mabyn — I cannot even try. She looks at you with her blue, soft 
eyes, and you fall in love with her ; and that is the advantage of 
being handsome and beautiful, for you can please every one, and 
make every one like you, and confer favors on people all day long. 
But if you are small and plain and dark — if your father calls you 
Jim Crow — what can you do?” 

These despondent fancies did not seem to depress her much. 
The gloom of them was certainly not visible on her face, nor yet 
in the dark eyes, which had a strange and winning earnestness in 
them. She pulled a bit of tormentil from among the close warm 
grass on the rocks, and she hummed a line or two of “ Wapping 
Old Stairs.” Then she turned to her book ; but by and by her 
eyes wandered away again, and she fell to thinking. 

“ If you were a man, now,” she was silently saying to herself, 
“ that would be quite different. It would not matter how ugly 
you were — for you could try to be brave or clever, or a splendid 
rider or something of that kind — and nobody would mind how 
ugly you were. But it’s very hard to be a woman and to be plain ; 
you feel as if you were good for nothing, and had no business to- 
live. They say that you should cultivate the graces of the mind ; 
but it’s only old people who say that ; and perhaps you may not 
have auy mind to cultivate. How much better it would be to be 
pretty while you are young, and leave the cultivation of the mind 
for after-years ! and that is why I have to prevent mother from 
scolding Mabyn for never reading a book. If I were like Mabyn,. 
I should be so occupied in giving people the pleasure of looking 


JIM CROW. 


21 


at me and talking to me that I should have no time for books. 
Mabyn is like a princess. And if she were a grand lady, instead 
of being only an innkeeper’s daughter, what a lot of things she 
could do about Eglosilyan ! She could go and persuade Mr. Ros- 
corla, by the mere sweetness of her manner, to be less suspicious 
of people, and less bitter in talking; she could go up to Mrs. 
Trelyon, and bring her out more among her neighbors, and make 
the house pleasanter for her son ; she could go to my father, and 
beg him to be a little more considerate to mother when she is 
angry ; she might get some influence over Mr. Trelyon himself, 
and make him less of a petulant boy. Perhaps Mabyn may do 
some of these things when she gets a little older. It ought to 
please her to try, at all events ; and who can withstand her when 
she likes to be affectionate and winning? Not Jim Crow, any- 
way.” 

She heaved a sigh, not a very dismal one, and got up and pre- 
pared to go home. She was humming carelessly to herself — 
“Your Polly has never been false, she declares, 

Since last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs 
— she had got that length when she was startled into silence by 
the sound of a horse’s feet, and, turning quickly around, found Mr. 
Trelyon galloping up the steep slope that reaches across to the 
mainland. It was no pleasant place to ride across, for a stumble 
of the animal’s foot would have sent horse and rider down into 
the gulfs below, where the blue-green sea was surging in among 
the black rocks. 

“ Oh ! how could you be so foolish as to do that ?” she cried. 
“ I beg of you to come down, Mr. Trelyon. I cannot — ” 

“ Why, Dick is as sure-footed as I am,” said the lad, his hand- 
some face flushing with the ride up from Eglosilyan. “ I thought 
I should find you here. There’s no end of a row going on at the 
inn, Miss Wenna, and that’s a fact. I fancied I’d better come and 
tell you ; for there’s no one can put things straight like you, you 
know.” 

A quarrel between her father and her mother — it was of no rare 
occurrence, and she was not much surprised. 

“ Thank you, Mr. Trelyon,” she said. “ It is very kind of you 
to have taken the trouble. I will go down at once.” 

But she was looking rather anxiously at him, as he turned around 
his horse. 


22 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Mr. Trelyon,” she said, quickly, “ would you oblige me by 
getting down and leading your horse across until you reach the 
path ?” 

He was out of the saddle in a moment. 

“ I will walk down with you to Eglosilyan, if you like,” he said, 
carelessly. “ You often come up here, don’t you ?” 

“ Nearly every day. I always take a walk in the forenoon.” 

“ Does Mabyn ever go with you ?” His companion noticed that 
he always addressed her as Miss Wenna, whereas her sister was 
simply Mabyn. 

“ Not often.” 

“ I wonder she doesn’t ride — I am sure she would look well on 
horseback — don’t you think so ?” 

“ Mabyn would look well anywhere,” said the eldest sister, with 
a smile. 

“ If she would like to try a lady’s saddle on your father’s cob, 
I would send you one down from the Hall,” the lad said. “ My 
mother never rides now. But perhaps I’d better speak to your 
father about it. Oh ! by the way, he told me a capital story this 
morning that he heard in coming from Plymouth to Launceston 
in the train. Two farmers belonging to Launceston had got into 
a carriage the day before, and found in it a parson, against whom 
they had a grudge. He didn’t know either of them by sight ; 
and so they pretended to be strangers, and sat down opposite 
each other. One of them put up the window ; the other put it 
down with a bang. The first drew it up again, and said, * I de- 
sire you to leave the window alone, sir !’ The other said, ‘ I mean 
to have that window down, and if you touch it again I will throw 
you out of it.’ Meanwhile the parson at the other end of the 
carriage, who was a little fellow and rather timid, had got into an 
agony of fright ; and at last, when the two men seemed about to 
seize each other by the throat, he called out, ‘ For Heaven’s sake, 
gentlemen, do not quarrel ! Sir, I beg of you, I implore you, as a 
clergyman I entreat you, to put up that knife !’ And then, of 
course, they both turned upon him like tigers, and slanged him, 
and declared they would break his back over the same window. 
Fancy the fright he was in !” 

The boy laughed merrily. 

“ Do you think that was a good joke ?” the girl beside him 
asked, quietly. 


JIM CROW. 


23 


He seemed a little embarrassed. 

“ Do you think it was a very manly and courageous thing for 
two big farmers to frighten a small and timid clergyman ? I 
think it was rather mean and cowardly. I see no joke in it at 
all.” 

His face grew more and more red. 

“ I don’t suppose they meant any harm,” he said, curtly ; “ but 
you know we can’t all be squaring every word and look by the 
Prayer-book. And I suppose the parson himself, if he had 
known, would not have been so fearfully serious but that he 
could have taken a joke like any one else. By the way, this is 
the nearest road to Trevenna, isn’t it? I have got to ride over 
there before the afternoon, Miss Rosewarne; so 1 shall bid you 
good-day.” 

He got on horseback again, and took off his cap to her, and 
rode away. 

“ Good-day, Mr. Trelyon,” she said, meekly. 

And so she walked down to the inn by herself, and was inclined 
to reproach herself for being so very serious, and for being unable 
to understand a joke like any one else. Yet she was not unhappy 
about it. It was a pity if Mr. Trelyon were annoyed with her ; 
but, then, she had long ago taught herself to believe that she 
could not easily please people, as Mabyn could; and she cheer- 
fully accepted the fact. Sometimes, it is true, she indulged in 
idle dreams of what she might do if she were beautiful and rich 
and noble ; but she soon laughed herself out of these foolish fan- 
cies, and they left no sting of regret behind them. At this mo- 
ment, as she walked down to Eglosilyan, with the tune of “ Wap- 
ping Old Stairs ” rocking itself to sleep in her head, and with her 
face brightened by her brisk walk, there was neither disappoint- 
ment nor envy nor ambition in her mind. Not for her, indeed, 
were any of those furious passions that shake and set afire the 
lives of men and women : her lot was the calm and placid lot of 
the unregarded, and with it she was well content. 


24 


THREE FEATHERS. 


CHAPTER HI. 

RES ANGUST^E DOMI. 

When George Rosewarne, the father of this Miss Wenna, lived 
in Eastern Devonshire, many folks thought him a fortunate man. 
He was the land-steward of a large estate, the owner of which 
lived in Paris, so that Rosewarne was practically his own master ; 
he had a young and pretty wife, desperately fond of him ; he had 
a couple of children and a comfortable home. As for himself, he 
was a tall, reddish -bearded, manly - looking fellow: the country 
folks called him Handsome George as they saw him riding his 
rounds of a morning ; and they thought it a pity Mrs. Rosewarne 
was so often poorly, for she and her husband looked well togeth- 
er when they walked to church. 

Handsome George did not seem much troubled by his wife’s 
various ailments; he would only give the curtest answer when 
asked about her health. Yet he was not in any distinct way a 
bad husband. He was a man vaguely unwilling to act wrongly, 
but weak in staving off temptation ; there was a sort of indolent 
selfishness about him of which he was scarcely aware; and to 
indulge this selfishness he was capable of a good deal of petty 
deceit and even treachery of a sort. It was not these failings, 
however, that made the relations of husband and wife not very 
satisfactory. Mrs. Rosewarne was passionately fond of her hus- 
band, and proportionately jealous of him. She was a woman of 
impulsive imagination and of sympathetic nature, clever, bright, 
and fanciful, well-read and well-taught, and altogether made of 
finer stuff than Handsome George. But this passion of jealousy 
altogether overmastered her reason. When she did try to con- 
vince herself that she was in the wrong, the result was merely 
that she resolved to keep silence ; but this forcible repression of 
her suspicions was worse in its effects than the open avowal of 
them. When the explosion came, George Rosewarne was mostly 
anxious to avoid it. He did not seek to set matters straight. 
He would get into a peevish temper for a few minutes, and tell 


RES ANGUST^E DOMI. 


25 


her she was a fool; then he would go out for the rest of the. 
day, and come home sulky in the evening. By this time she 
was generally in a penitent mood ; and there is nothing an indo- 
lent, sulky person likes so much as to be coaxed and caressed, 
with tears of repentance and affectionate promises, into a good 
temper again. There were too many of such scenes in George 
Rosewarne’s home. 

Mrs. Rosewarne may have been wrong, but people began to 
talk. For there had come to live at the Hall a certain Mrs. Shir- 
ley, who had lately returned from India, and was the sister-in-law, 
or some such relation, of George Rosewarne’s master. She was a 
good-looking woman of forty, fresh-colored and free-spoken, a lit- 
tle too fond of brandy-and-water, folks said, and a good deal too 
fond of the handsome steward, who no\v spent most of his time 
up at the big house. They said she was a grass-widow. They 
said there were reasons why her relations wished her to be buried 
down there in the country, where she received no company, and 
made no efforts to get acquainted with the people who had called 
on her and left their cards. And amid all this gossip the name of 
George Rosewarne too frequently turned up ; and there were nods 
and winks when Mrs. Shirley and the steward were seen to be rid- 
ing about the country from day to day, presumably not always 
conversing about the property. 

The blow fell at last, and that in a fashion that need not be de- 
scribed here. There was a wild scene between two angry women. 
A few days after a sallow-complexioned, white-haired old gentle- 
man arrived from Paris, and was confronted by a red-faced fury, 
who gloried in her infatuation and disgrace, and dared him to in- 
terfere. Then there was a sort of conference of relatives held in 
the house which she still inhabited. The result of all this, so far 
as the Rosewarnes were concerned, was simply that the relatives 
of the woman, to hush the matter up and prevent further scandal, 
offered to purchase for George Rosewarne the “ Trelyon Arms ” 
at Eglosilyan, on condition that he should immediately, with his 
family, betake himself to that remote corner of the world, and 
undertake to hold no further communication of any sort with the 
woman who still (with some flash of rhetoric, which probably 
meant nothing) swore that she would follow him to the end of 
the earth. George Rosewarne was pleased with the offer, and 
accepted it. He might have found some difficulty in discov- 


26 


THREE FEATHERS. 


ering another stewardship after the events that had just oc- 
curred. On the other hand, the “ Trelyon Arms ” at Eglosilyan 
was not a mere public-house. It was an old-fashioned, quaint, 
and comfortable inn, practically shut up during the winter, and 
in the summer made the headquarters of a few families who had 
discovered it, and who went there as regularly as the warm weath- 
er came round. A few antiquarian folks, too, and a stray geolo- 
gist or so, generally made up the family party that sat down to 
dinner every evening in the big dining-room ; and who that ever 
made one of the odd circle meeting in this strange and out-of-the- 
way place ever failed to return to it when the winter had finally 
cleared away and the Atlantic got blue again ? 

George Rosewarne went down to see about it. He found in 
the inn an efficient housekeeper, who was thoroughly mistress of 
her duties and of the servants, so that he should have no great 
trouble about it, even though his wife were too ill to help. As 
for his daughters, he resolved that they should have nothing what- 
soever to do with the inn ; but, on the contrary, be trained in all 
the ordinary accomplishments of young ladies ; for he was rather 
a proud man. And so the Rosewarnes were drafted down to the 
Cornish coast ; and as Mrs. Rosewarne was of Cornish birth, and 
as she had given both her daughters Cornish names, they gradual- 
ly ceased to be regarded as strangers. They made many acquaint- 
ances and friends. Mrs. Rosewarne was a bright, rapid, and play- 
ful talker ; a woman of considerable reading and intelligence, and 
a sympathetic listener. Her husband knew all about horses and 
dogs and farming, and what not ; so that young Harry Trelyon, 
for example, was in the habit of consulting him almost daily. 

They had a little parlor abutting on what once had been a bar, 
and here one or two friends sometimes dropped in to have a chat. 
There was a bar no longer. The business of the inn was conduct- 
ed overhead, and was exclusively of the nature described above. 
The pot-house of Eglosilyan was the Napoleon Hotel, a dilapidated 
place, half-way up one of the steep streets. 

But in leaving Devonshire for Cornwall the Rosewarnes had 
carried with them a fatal inheritance. They could not leave be- 
hind them the memory of the circumstances that had caused their 
flight ; and ever and anon, as something occurred to provoke her 
suspicions, Mrs. Rosewarne would break out again into a passion 
of jealousy, and demand explanations and reassurances, which her 


RES ANGUST^E DOMI. 


27 


husband half - indolently and half -sulkily refused. There was 
but one hand then — one voice that could still the raging waters. 
Wenna Rosewarne knew nothing of that Devonshire story, any 
more than her sister or the neighbors did ; but she saw that her 
mother had defects of temper, that she was irritable, unreasonable, 
and suspicious, and she saw that her father was inconsiderately 
indifferent and harsh. It was a hard task to reconcile these two ; 
but the girl had all the patience of a born peacemaker ; and pa- 
tience is the more necessary to the settlement of such a dispute, 
in that it is generally impossible for any human being, outside 
the two who are quarrelling, to discover any ground for the quar- 
rel. 

“ Why, what’s the matter, mother ?” she said on this occasion, 
taking off her hat and shawl as if she had heard nothing about it. 
“ I do think you have been crying.” 

The pretty, pale woman, with the large black eyes and smooth- 
ly brushed dark hair, threw a volume on the table, and said, with 
a sort of half-hysterical laugh, “ How stupid it is, Wenna, to cry 
over the misfortunes of people in books, isn’t it ?” 

That pretence would not have deceived Miss Wenna in any 
case, but now she was to receive other testimony to the truth of 
Mr. Trelyon’s report. There was seated at the window of the 
room a tall and strikingly handsome young girl of sixteen, whose 
almost perfect profile was clearly seen against the light. Just at 
this moment she rose and stepped across the room to the door, 
and as she went by she said, with just a trace of contemptuous 
indifference on the proud and beautiful face, “ It is only another 
quarrel, Wenna.” 

“ Mother,” said the girl, when her sister had gone, “ tell me 
what it is about. What have you said to father ? Where is he ?” 

There was an air of quiet decision about her that did not de- 
tract from the sympathy visible in her face. Mrs. Rosewarne be- 
gan to cry again. Then she took her daughter’s hand, and made 
her sit down by her, and told her all her troubles. What was 
the girl to make of it? It was the old story of suspicion and 
challenging and sulky denial, and then hot words and anger. 
She could make out, at least, that her mother had first been made 
anxious about something he had inadvertently said about his visit 
to Plymouth on the previous two days. In reply to her questions 
he had grown peevishly vague, and had then spoken in bravado 


28 


THREE FEATHERS. 


of the pleasant evening he had spent at the theatre. Wenna 
reasoned with her mother, and pleaded with her, and at last exer- 
cised a little authority over her ; at the end of which she agreed 
that, if her husband would tell her with whom he had been to 
the theatre, she would be satisfied, would speak no more on the 
subject, and would even formally beg his forgiveness. 

“ Because, mother, I have something to tell you,” the daughter 
said, “ when you are all quite reconciled.” 

“ Was it in the letter you read just now ?” 

“ Yes, mother.” 

The girl still held the letter in her hand. It was lying on the 
table when she came in, but she had not opened it and glanced 
over the contents until she saw that her mother was yielding to 
her prayers. 

“ It is from Mr. Roscorla, Wenna,” the mother said ; and now 
she saw, as she might have seen before, that her daughter was a 
little paler than usual, and somewhat agitated. 

“ Yes, mother.” 

“What is it, then ? You look frightened.” 

“ I must settle this matter first,” said the girl, calmly ; and then 
she folded up the letter, and, still holding it in her hand, went off 
to find her father. 

George Rosewarne, seeking calni after the storm, was seated on 
a large and curiously carved bench of Spanish oak placed by the 
door of the inn. He was smoking his pipe, and lazily looking at 
some pigeons that were flying about the mill and occasionally 
alighting on the roof. In the calm of the midsummer’s day there 
was no sound but the incessant throbbing of the big wheel over 
there and the plash of the water. 

“ Now, don’t bother me, Wenna,” he said, the moment he saw 
her approach. “ I know you’ve come to make a fuss. You mind 
your own business.” 

“ Mother is very sorry — ” the girl was beginning in a meek way, 
when he interrupted her rudely. 

“ I tell you to mind your own business. I must have an end 
of this. I have stood it long enough. Do you hear?” 

But she did not go away. She stood there, with her quiet, 
patient face, not heeding his angry looks. 

“ Father, don’t be hard on her. She is very sorry. She is will- 
ing to beg your pardon if you will only tell her who went to the 


RES ANGUSTA2 DOMI. 


29 


theatre with you at Plymouth, and relieve her from this anxiety. 
This is all. Father, who went to the theatre with you?” 

Oh, go away !” he said, relapsing into a sulky condition. 
“ You’re growing up to be just such another as your mother.” 

“I cannot wish for anything better,” the girl said, mildly. 
“ She is a good woman, and she loves you dearly.” 

Why, he said, turning suddenly upon her, and speaking in 
an injured way, no one went with me to the theatre at Plymouth ! 
Did I say that anybody did? Surely a man must do something 
to spend the evening if he is by himself in a strange town.” 

Wenna put her hand on her father’s shoulder, and said, “Da, 
why didn’t you take me to Plymouth ?” 

“Well, I will next time. You’re a good lass,” he said, still in 
the same sulky way. 

“ Now come in and make it up with mother. She is anxious 
to make it up.” 

He looked at his pipe. 

“ In a few minutes, Wenna. When I finish my pipe.” 

“ She is waiting now,” said the girl, quietly ; and with that her 
father burst into a loud laugh, and got up and shrugged his 
shoulders ; and then, taking his daughter by the ear, and saying 
that she was a sly little cat, he walked into the house and into the 
room where his wife awaited him. 

Meanwhile Wenna Rosewarne had stolen off to her own little 
room, and there she sat down at the window, and with trembling 
fingers took out a letter and began to read it. It was certainly a 
document of some length, consisting, indeed, of four large pages 
of blue paper, covered with a small, neat, and precise handwrit- 
ing. She had not got on very far with it, when the door of the 
room was opened, and Mrs. Rosewarne appeared, the pale face 
and large dark eyes being now filled with a radiant pleasure. Her 
husband had said something friendly to her ; and the quick, imag- 
inative nature had leaped to the conclusion that all was right again, 
and that there were to be no more needless quarrels. 

“ And now, Wenna,” she said, sitting down by the girl, “ what 
is it all about ? and why did you look so frightened a few minutes 
ago ?” 

“ Oh, mother !” the girl said, “ this is a letter from Mr. Roscorla, 
and he wants me to marry him.” 

“ Mr. Roscorla !” cried the mother, in blank amazement. “ Who 


30 


THREE FEATHERS. 


ever dreamed of such a thing? and what do you say, Wenna? 
What do you think ? What answer will you send him ? Dear 
me, to think of Mr. Roscorla taking a wife, and wanting to have 
our Wenna, too!” 

She began to tell her mother something of the letter, reading 
it carefully to herself, and then repeating aloud some brief sug- 
gestion of what she had read, to let her mother know what were 
the arguments that Mr. Roscorla employed. And it was, on the 
whole, an argumentative letter, and much more calm and lucid and 
reasonable than most letters are which contain offers of marriage. 
Mr. Roscorla wrote thus : 

“Basset Cottage, Eglosilyan, July 18 , 18 — . 

“ My dear Miss Wenna, — 

“ I fear that this letter may surprise you, but I hope you will 
read it through without alarm or indignation, and deal fairly and 
kindly with what it has to say. Perhaps you will think, when 
you have read it, that I ought to have come to you and said the 
things that it says. But I wish to put these things before you in 
as simple a manner as I can, which is best done by writing ; and 
a letter will have this advantage that you can recur to it at any 
moment, if there is some point on which you are in doubt. 

“ The object, then, of this letter is to ask you to become my 
wife, and to put before you a few considerations which I hope will 
have some little influence in determining your answer. You will 
be surprised, no doubt ; for though you must be well aware that 
I could perceive the graces of your character — the gentleness and 
charity of heart and modesty of demeanor that have endeared you 
to the whole of the people among whom you live — you may fairly 
say that I never betrayed my admiration of you in word or deed ; 
and that is true. I cannot precisely tell you why I should be 
more distant in manner towards her whom I preferred to all the 
world than to her immediate friends and associates for whom I 
cared much less ; but such is the fact. I could talk and joke and 
spend a pleasant afternoon in the society of your sister Mabyn, 
for example ; I could ask her to accept a present from me ; I could 
write letters to her when I was in London ; but with you all that 
was different. Perhaps it is because you are so fine and shy, be- 
cause there is so much sensitiveness in your look, that I have 
almost been afraid to go near you, lest you should shrink from 


RES ANGUSTJ2 DOMI. 


31 


some rude intimation of that which I now endeavor to break to 
you gently — my wish and earnest hope that you may become my 
wife. I trust I have so far explained what perhaps you may have 
considered coldness on my part. 

“lama good deal older than you are ; and I cannot pretend 
to offer you that fervid passion which, to the imagination of the 
young, seems the only thing worth living for, and one of the neces- 
sary conditions of marriage. On the other hand, I cannot expect 
the manifestation of any such passion on your side, even if I had 
any wish for it. But on this point I should like to make a few 
observations which I hope will convince you that my proposal is 
not so unreasonable as it may have seemed at first sight. When 
I look over the list of all my friends who have married, whom do 
I find to be living the happiest life ? Not they who as boy and 
girl were carried away by a romantic idealism which seldom lasts 
beyond a few weeks after marriage, but those who had wisely 
chosen partners fitted to become their constant and affectionate 
friends. It is this possibility of friendship, indeed, which is the 
very basis of a happy marriage. The romance and passion of love 
soon depart ; then the man and woman find themselves living in 
the same house, dependent on each other’s character, intelligence, 
and disposition, and bound by inexorable ties. If, in these cir- 
cumstances, they can be good friends, it is well with them. If 
they admire each other’s thoughts and feelings, if they are gener- 
ously considerate towards each other’s weaknesses, if they have 
pleasure in each other’s society — if, in short, they find themselves 
bound to each other by the ties of a true and disinterested friend- 
ship, the world has been good to them. I say nothing against 
that period of passion which, in some rare and fortunate instances, 
precedes this infinitely longer period of friendship. You would 
accuse me of the envy of an elderly man if I denied that it has its 
romantic aspects. But how very temporary these are ! How 
dangerous they are too ! The passion of a young man, as I have 
seen it displayed in a thousand instances, is not a thing to be de- 
sired. It is cruel in its jealousy, exacting in its demands, heedless 
in its impetuosity ; and when it has burned itself out — when 
nothing remains but ashes and an empty fireplace — who is to say 
that the capacity for a firm and lasting friendship will survive? 
But perhaps you fancy that this passionate love may last forever. 
Will you forgive me, dear Miss Wenna, if I say that that is the 


32 


THREE FEATHERS. 


dream of a girl ? In such rare cases as I have seen, this perpetual 
ardor of love was anything but a happiness to those concerned. 
The freaks of jealousy on the part of a boy and girl who think 
of getting married are but occasions for the making of quarrels 
and the delight of reconciliation ; but a life-long jealousy involves 
a torture to both husband and wife to which death would be pref- 
erable.” 

At this point Wenna’s cheeks burned red ; she was silent for a 
time, and her mother wondered why she skipped so long a passage 
without saying a word. 

“ I have used all the opportunities within my reach,” the letter 
continued, “ to form a judgment of your character ; I know some- 
thing of my own ; and I sincerely believe that we could live a 
happy and pleasant life together. It is a great sacrifice I ask of 
you, I own ; but you would not find me slow to repay you in 
gratitude. I am almost alone in the world ; the few relatives I 
have I never see ; I have scarcely a friend or acquaintance except 
those I meet under your father’s hospitable roof. I cannot conceal 
from myself that I should be by far the greater gainer by such a 
marriage : I should secure for myself a pleasant, intelligent, and 
amiable companion, who would brighten my home, and in time, I 
doubt not, soften and sweeten those views of the world that are 
naturally formed by a middle-aged man living alone and in privacy. 
What can I offer you in return ? Not much — except the oppor- 
tunity of adding one more to the many good deeds that seem to 
be the chief occupation of your life. And I should be glad if you 
would let me help you in that way, and give you the aid of ad- 
vice which might, perhaps, temper your generosity and apply it 
to its best uses. You are aware that I have no occupation — and 
scarcely a hobby ; I should make it my occupation, my constant 
endeavor and pleasure, to win and secure your affection — to 
make the ordinary little cares and duties of life, in which you take 
so great an interest, smooth and pleasant to you. In short, I 
should try to make you happy ; not in any frantic and wild way, 
but by the exercise of a care and affection and guardianship by 
which I hope we should both profit. May I point out, also, that, 
as a married woman, you would have much more influence among 
the poorer families in the village who take up so much of your 
attention ; and you would be removed, too, if I may mention such 
a thing, from certain unhappy circumstances which I fear trouble 


RES ANGUST^E DOMI. 


33 


you greatly at times. But perhaps I should not have referred to 
this ; I would rather seek to press my claim on the ground of the 
happiness you would thereby confer on others, which I know to 
be your chief object in life. 

“ I have not said half what I intended to say ; but I must not 
fatigue you. Perhaps you will give me an opportunity of telling 
you personally what I think of yourself, for I cannot bring myself 
to write it in bald words ; and if you should be in doubt, give me 
the benefit of the doubt, and let me explain. I do not ask you 
for a hurried answer ; but I should be glad if, out of the kindness 
of all your ways, you would send me one line soon, merely to say 
that I have not offended you. 

“ I am, my dear Miss Rosewarne, 

“ Yours most sincerely, 

“Richard Roscorla.” 

“ Oh ! what must I do, mother ?” the girl cried. “ Is it all true 
that he says ?” 

“ My dear child, there is a great deal of common-sense in the 
letter,” the mother replied, calmly ; “ but you needn’t decide all 
at once. Take plenty of time. I suppose you don’t dislike Mr. 
Roscorla ?” 

“ Oh, not at all — not at all ! But then, to marry him — !” 

“ If you don’t wish to marry him, no harm is done,” Mrs. Rose- 
warne said. “I cannot advise you, Wenna. Your own feelings 
must settle the question. But you ought to be very proud of the 
offer, anyway ; and you must thank him properly ; for Mr. Ros- 
corla is a gentleman, although he is not as rich as his relations ; 
and it is a great honor he has done you. Of course, Wenna, if 
you were in love with any one — if there was any young man 
about here whom you would like to marry — there would be no 
need for you to be frightened about what Mr. Roscorla says of 
young folks being in love. It is a trying time, to be sure. It 
has many troubles. Perhaps, after all, a quiet and peaceful life is 
better, especially for you, Wenna, for you were always quiet and 
peaceful, and if any trouble came over you it would break your 
heart. I think it would be better for you if you were never tried 
in that way, Wenna.” 

The girl rose, with a sigh. 

“ Not that it is my advice, Wenna,” said the mother anxiously. 

3 


34 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ But you arc of that nature, you see. If you were in love with a 
young man, you would be his slave. If he ceased to care for you, 
or were cruel to you, it would kill you, my dear. Well, you see, 
here is a man who would be able to take care of you, and of your 
sister Mabyn, too, if anything happened to your father or me ; and 
he would make much of you, I have no doubt, and be very kind 
to you. You are not like other girls, Wenna — ” 

“ I know that, mother,” said the girl, with a strange sort of 
smile that just trembled on the verge of tears. “ They can’t all 
be as plain as I am.” 

“ Oh, I don’t mean that ! You make a great mistake if you 
think that men care only for doll-faces — as Mr. Roscorla says, that 
fancy does not last long after marriage, and then men begin to ask 
whether their wives are clever and amusing and well-informed, 
and so on. What I meant was, that most girls could run the 
gauntlet of that sort of love that Mr. Roscorla describes, and suffer 
little if they made a mistake. But there’s no shell about you, 
Wenna. You are quite undefended, sensitive, and timid. People 
are deceived by your quick wit and your cheerfulness and your 
singing. I know better. I know that a careless word may cut 
you deeply. And dear, dear me, what a terrible time that is when 
all your life seems to hang on the way a word is spoken !” 

The girl crossed over to a small side-table, on which there was 
a writing-desk. 

“ But mind, Wenna,” said her mother, with a return of anxiety — 
“ mind, I don’t say that to influence your decision. Don’t be in- 
fluenced by me. Consult your own feelings, dear. You know I 
fancy sometimes you undervalue yourself, and think that no one 
cares about you, and that you have no claim to be thought much 
of. Well, that is a great mistake, Wenna. You must not throw 
yourself away through that notion. I wish all the girls about were 
as clever and good-natured as you. But at the same time, you 
know, there are few girls I know, and certainly none about here, 
who would consider it throwing themselves away to marry Mr. 
Roscorla.” 

“ Marry Mr. Roscorla /” a third voice exclaimed; and at the 
same moment Mabyn Rosewarne entered the room. 

She looked at her mother and sister with astonishment. She 
saw that Wenna was writing, and that she was very pale. She 
saw a blue-colored letter lying beside her. Then the proud young 


RES ANGUST^E DOMI. 


35 


beauty understood tbe situation ; and with her to perceive a thing 
was to act on its suggestion there and then. 

“Our Wenna! Marry that old man! Oh, mother! how can 
you let her do such a thing ?” 

She walked right over to the small table, with a glow of indig- 
nation in her face, and with her lips set firm, and her eyes full of 
fire ; and then she caught up the letter, that had scarcely been be- 
gun, and tore it in a thousand pieces, and flung the pieces on the 
floor. 

“ Oh, mother ! how could you let her do it ? Mr. Roscorla marry 
our Wenna !” 

She took two or three steps up and down the room, in a pretty 
passion of indignation, and yet trying to keep her proud eyes free 
from tears. 

“ Mother, if you do, I’ll go into a convent ! I’ll go to sea, and 
never come back again ! I won’t stop in the house — not one 
minute — if Wenna goes away !” 

“ My dear child,” said the mother, patiently, “ it is not my do- 
ing. You must not be so rash. Mr. Roscorla is not an old man 
— nothing of the sort ; and, if he does offer to marry Wenna, it 
is a great honor done to her, I think. She ought to be very 
grateful, as I hope you will be, Mabyn, when any one offers to 
marry you — ” 

Miss Mabyn drew herself up ; and her pretty mouth lost none 
of its scorn. 

“And as for Wenna,” the mother said, “she must judge for 
herself—” 

“ Oh, but she’s not fit to judge for herself !” broke in the young- 
er sister impetuously. “ She will do anything that anybody wants. 
She would make herself the slave of anybody. She is always be- 
ing imposed on. Just wait a moment, and I will answer Mr. Ros- 
corla’s letter !” 

She walked over to the table again, twisted round the writing- 
desk, and quickly pulled in a chair. You would have thought 
that the pale, dark-eyed little girl on tbe other side of the table 
had no will of her own — that she was in the habit of obeying this 
beautiful young termagant of a sister of hers ] but Miss Mabyn s 
bursts of impetuosity were no match for the gentle firmness and 
patience that were invariably opposed to them. In this instance 
Mr. Roscorla was not to be the recipient of a letter which doubt- 
J less would have astonished him. 


36 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Mabyn,” said her sister Wenna, quietly, “ don’t be foolish. I 
must write to Mr. Roscorla — but only to tell him that I have re- 
ceived his letter. Give me the pen. And will you go and ask 
Mrs. Borlase if she can spare me Jennifer for a quarter of an hour, 
to go up to Basset Cottage ?” 

Mabyn rose, silent, disappointed, and obedient, but not subdued. 
She went off to execute the errand ; but as she went she said to 
herself, with her head very erect, “ Before Mr. Roscorla marries 
our Wenna, I will have a word to say to him.” 

Meanwhile Wenna Rosewarne, apparently quite calm, but with 
her hand trembling so that she could hardly hold the pen, wrote 
her first love-letter ; and it ran thus : 

“Trelyon Arms, Tuesday Afternoon. 

“ Dear Mr. Roscorla, — 

“ I have received your letter, and you must not think me of- 
fended. I will try to send you an answer to-morrow ; or perhaps 
the day after, or perhaps on Friday ; I will try to send you an an- 
swer to your letter. 

“ I am yours sincerely, 

“ Wenna Rosewarne.” 

She took it timidly to her mother, who smiled, and said it was 
a little incoherent. 

“ But I cannot write it again, mother,” the girl said. “ Will 
you give it to Jennifer when she comes ?” 

Little did Miss Wenna notice of the beautiful golden afternoon 
that was shining over Eglosilyan as she left the inn and stole away 
out to the rocks at the mouth of the little harbor. She spoke to 
her many acquaintances as she passed, and could not have told a 
minute thereafter that she had seen them. She said a word or 
two to the coastguardsman out at the point — an old friend of hers 
— and then she went round to the seaward side of the rocks, and 
sat down to think the whole matter over. The sea was as still as 
a sea in a dream. There was but one ship visible, away down in 
the south, a brown speck in a flood of golden haze. 

When the first startled feeling was over — when she had recov- 
ered from the absolute fright that so sudden a proposal had caused 
her — something of pride and pleasure crept into her heart to know 
that she was not quite the insignificant person she had fancied 


RES ANGUSTJ5 DOMI. 37 

herself to be. Was it true, then, what he had said about her be- 
ing of some use to the people around her ? Did they really care 
for her ? Had she really won the respect and approval of a man 
who had hitherto seemed to her suspicious and censorious ? 

There flashed upon her some faint picture of herself as a ma- 
tron, and she found herself blushing to think of herself going 
round the cottages as Mrs. Roscorla, and acting the part of a little 
married woman. If marriage meant no more than that, she was 
not afraid of it ; on the contrary, the prospect rather pleased her. 
These were duties she could understand. Marriage, in those idle 
day-dreams of hers, had seemed to her some vague and distant 
and awful thing ; all the romance and worship and noble surren- 
der of it being far away from a poor little plain person, not ca- 
pable of inspiring idealism in anybody. But this, on the other 
hand, seemed easily within her reach. She became rather amused 
with the picture which she drew of herself as Mrs. Roscorla. Her 
quick fancy put in humorous touches here and there, until she 
found herself pretty nearly laughing at herself as a tiny married 
woman. For what did the frank-spoken heroine of that sailor- 
ballad say to her lover ? If he would be faithful and kind — 

“Nor your Molly forsake, 

Still your trousers I’ll wash, and your grog, too, I’ll make. ” 

As for his grog, would she mix the proper quantities, as they sat 
together of an evening, by themselves, in that little parlor up at 
Basset Cottage? And would she have to take his arm as they 
walked of a Sunday morning to church, up the main street of 
Eglosilyan, where all her old friends, the children, would be look- 
ing at her ? And would she some day, with all the airs and coun- 
sels of a married woman, have to take Mabyn to her arms, and 
bid the younger sister have confidence, and listen to all the story 
of Mabyn’s wonder and delight over the new and strange love 
that had come into her heart? And would she ask Mabyn to 
describe her lover? and would she act the ordinary part of an 
experienced adviser, and bid her be cautious, and ask her to wait 
until the young man had made a position in the world, and had 
proved himself prudent and sensible and of steady mind? Or 
would she not rather fling her arms round her sister’s neck, and 
bid her go down on her knees and thank God for having made 
her so beautiful, and bid her cherish as the one good thing in all 


38 


THREE FEATHERS. 


the world the strong and yearning love and admiration and wor- 
ship of a young and wondering soul ? 

Wenna Rosewarne had been amusing herself with these pictures 
of herself as a married woman ; hut she was crying all the same ; 
and becoming a little impatient with herself, and perhaps a trifle 
hysterical, she rose from the rocks and thought she would go 
home again. She had scarcely turned, however, when she met 
Mr. Roscorla himself, who had seen her at a distance, and fol- 
lowed her. 


CHAPTER IY. 

THE LAST LOOK BACK. 

Mr. Roscorla may be recommended to ladies generally, and 
to married men who are haunted by certain vague and vain re- 
grets, as an excellent example of the evils and vanity of club life. 
He was now a man approaching fifty, careful in dress and man- 
ner, methodical in habit, and grave of aspect, living out a not 
over-enjoyable life in a solitary little cottage, and content to go 
for his society to the good folks of the village inn. But five-and- 
twenty years before he had been a gay young fellow about town, 
a pretty general favorite, clever in his way, free with his money, 
and possessed of excellent spirits. He was not very wealthy, to be 
sure ; his father had left him certain shares in some plantations in 
Jamaica, but the returns periodically forwarded to him by his 
agents were sufficient for his immediate wants. He had few cares, 
and he seemed on the whole to have a pleasant time of it. On 
disengaged evenings he lounged about his club, and dined with 
one or other of the men he knew, and then he played billiards 
till bedtime. Or he would have nice little dinner-parties at his 
rooms ; and after the men had changed their coats, would have a 
few games at whist, perhaps finishing up with a little spurt of un- 
limited loo. In the season he went to balls and dinners and par- 
ties of all sorts, singling out a few families with pretty daughters 
for his special attentions, but careful never to commit himself. 
When every one went from town he went too, and in the autumn 
and winter months he had a fair amount of shooting and hunting, 
guns and horses alike, and willingly, furnished him by his friends. 


THE LAST LOOK BACK. 


39 


Once, indeed, he had taken a fancy that he ought to do some- 
thing, and he went and read law a bit, and ate some dinners, and 
got called to the Bar. He even went the length of going on Cir- 
cuit ; but either he travelled by coach, or fraternized with a solici- 
tor, or did something objectionable ; at all events his Circuit mess 
fined him : he refused to pay the fine, threw the whole thing up, 
and returned to his club and its carefully ordered dinners, and its 
friendly game of sixpenny and eighteen-penny pool. 

Of course he dressed and acted and spoke just as his fellows 
did, and gradually from the common talk of smoking-rooms im- 
bibed a vast amount of nonsense. He knew that such and such 
a statesman professed particular opinions only to. keep in place 
and enjoy the loaves and fishes. He could tell you to a penny 
the bribe given to the editor of the Times by a foreign govern- 
ment for a certain series of articles. As for the stories he heard 
and repeated of all manner of noble families, they were many of 
them doubtless true, and they were nearly all unpleasant; but 
then the tale that would have been regarded with indifference if 
told about an ordinary person, grew lambent with interest when 
it was told about a commonplace woman possessed of a shire and 
a gaby crowned with a coronet. There was no malice in these 
stories ; only the young men were supposed to know everything 
about the private affairs of a certain number of families no more 
nearly related to them than their washerwoman. 

He was unfortunate, too, in a few personal experiences. He 
was a fairly well-intentioned young man ; and, going home one 
night, was moved to pity by the sobbing and exclamations of a 
little girl of twelve, whose mother was drunk and tumbling about 
the pavement. The child could not get her mother to go home, 
and it was now past midnight. Richard Roscorla thought he 
would interfere, and went over the way and helped the woman to 
her feet. He had scarcely done so when the virago turned on 
him, shouted for help, accused him of assaulting her, and finally 
hit him straight between the eyes, nearly blinding him, and caus- 
ing him to keep his chambers for three weeks. After that he 
gave up the lower classes. 

Then a gentleman who had been his bosom friend at Eton, and 
who had carried away with him so little of the atmosphere of that 
institution that he by and by abandoned himself to trade, renewed 
his acquaintance with Mr. Roscorla, and besought him to join him 


40 


THREE FEATHERS. 


in a little business transaction. He only wanted a few thousand 
pounds to secure the success of a venture that would make both 
their fortunes. Young Roscorla hesitated. Then his friend sent 
his wife, an exceedingly pretty woman, and she pleaded with such 
sweetness and pathos that she actually carried away a check for 
the amount in her beautiful little purse. A couple of days after- 
wards Mr. Roscorla discovered that his friend had suddenly left 
the country ; that he had induced a good many people to lend 
him money to start his new enterprise; and that the beautiful 
lady whom he had sent to plead his cause was a wife certainly, 
but not his wife. She was, in fact, the wife of one of the swin- 
dled creditors, who bore her loss with greater equanimity than he 
showed in speaking of his departed money. Young Roscorla 
laughed, and said to himself that a man who wished to have any 
knowledge of the world must be prepared to pay for it. 

The loss of the money, though it pressed him hardly for a few 
years, and gave a fright to his father’s executors, did not trouble 
him much ; for, in company with a good many of the young fel- 
lows about, he had given himself up to one of the most pleasing 
delusions which even club-life has fostered. It was the belief of 
those young men that in England there are a vast number of young 
ladies of fortune who are so exceedingly anxious to get married 
that any decent young fellow of fair appearance and good man- 
ners has only to bide his time in order to be provided for for life. 
Accordingly Mr. Roscorla and others of his particular set w r ere in 
no hurry to take a wife. They waited to see who would bid 
most for them. They were not in want ; they could have main- 
tained a wife in a certain fashion ; but that was not the fashion 
in which they hoped to spend the rest of their days, when they 
consented to relinquish the joys and freedom of bachelorhood. 
Most of them, indeed, had so thoroughly settled in their own 
mind the sort of existence to which they were entitled — the house 
and horses and shooting necessary to them — that it was impos- 
sible for them to consider any lesser offer ; and so they waited 
from year to year, guarding themselves against temptation, culti- 
vating an excellent taste in various sorts of luxuries, and reserving 
themselves for the grand coup which was to make their fortune. 
In many cases they looked upon themselves as the victims of the 
world. They had been deceived by this or the other woman ; 
but now they had done with the fatal passion of love, its danger- 


THE LAST LOOK BACK. 


41 


ous perplexities and insincere romance ; and were resolved to take 
a sound, common-sense view of life. So they waited carelessly, 
and enjoyed their time, growing in wisdom of a certain sort. 
They were gentlemanly young fellows enough ; they would not 
have done a dishonorable action for the world ; they were well- 
bred, and would have said no discourteous thing to the woman 
they married, even though they hated her; they had their cold 
bath every morning ; they lived soberly, if not very righteously ; 
and would not have asked ten points at billiards if they fairly 
thought they could have played even. The only thing was that 
they had changed their sex. They were not Perseus, but An- 
dromeda; and while this poor masculine Andromeda remained 
chained to the rock of an imaginary poverty, the feminine Per- 
seus who was to come in a blaze of jewels and gold to the rescue 
still remained afar off, until Andromeda got a little tired. 

And so it was with Mr. Richard Roscorla. He lounged about 
his club, and had nice little dinners; he went to other people’s 
houses, and dined there ; with his crush-hat under his arm he went 
to many a dance, and made such acquaintances as he might ; but 
somehow that one supreme chance invariably missed. He did 
not notice it, any more than his fellows. If you had asked any 
of them, they would still have given you those devil-may-care 
opinions about women, and those shrewd estimates of what was 
worth living for in the world. They did not seem to be aware 
that year after year was going by, and that a new race of younger 
men were coming to the front, eager for all sorts of pastimes, 
ready to dance till daybreak, and defying with their splendid con- 
stitutions the worst champagne a confectioner ever brewed. A 
man who takes good care of himself is slow to believe that he is 
growing middle-aged. If the sitting -up all night to play loo 
does him an injury such as he would not have experienced a few 
years before, he lays the blame of it on the brandy-and-soda. 
When two or three hours over wet turnips make his knees feel 
queer, he vows that he is in bad condition, but that a few days’ 
exercise will set him right. It was a long time before Mr. Rich- 
ard Roscorla would admit to himself that his hair was growing 
gray. By this time many of his old friends and associates had 
left the club. Some had died ; some had made the best of a bad 
bargain, and married a plain country cousin ; none, to tell the 
truth, had been rescued by the beautiful heiress for whom they 


42 


THREE FEATHERS. 


had all been previously waiting. And while these men went 
aw^y, and while new men came into the club — young fellows with 
fresh complexions, abundant spirits, a lavish disregard of money, 
and an amazing enjoyment in drinking any sort of wine — another 
set of circumstances came into play which rendered it more and 
more necessary for Mr. Roscorla to change his ways of life. 

He was now over forty; his hair was gray; his companions 
were mostly older men than himself ; and he began to be rather 
pressed for money. The merchants in London who sold for his 
agents in Jamaica those consignments of sugar and rum sent him 
every few months statements which showed that either the estates 
were yielding less, or the markets had fallen, or labor had risen — 
whatever it might be, his annual income was very seriously im- 
paired. He could no longer afford to play half-crown points at 
whist — even sixpenny pool was dangerous ; and those boxes and 
stalls which it was once his privilege to take for dowagers gifted 
with daughters were altogether out of the question. The rent of 
his rooms in Jermyn Street was a serious matter; all his little 
economies at the club were of little avail ; at last he resolved to 
leave London. And then it was that he bethought him of living 
permanently at this cottage at Eglosilyan, which had belonged to 
his grandfather, and which he had visited from time to time dur- 
ing the summer months. He would continue his club subscrip- 
tion ; he would still correspond with certain of his friends ; he 
would occasionally pay a flying visit to London ; and down here 
by the Cornish coast he would live a healthy, economical, con- 
tented life. 

So he came to Eglosilyan, and took up his abode in the plain 
white cottage placed amid bircli-trees on the side of the hill, and 
set about providing himself with amusement. He had a good 
many books, and he read at night over his final pipe ; he made 
friends with the fishermen, and often went out with them ; he 
took a little interest in wild plants ; and he rode a sturdy little 
pony by way of exercise. He was known to the Trelyons, to the 
clergymen of the neigborhood, and to one or two families living 
farther off ; but he did not dine out much, for he could not well 
invite his host to dinner in return. His chief friends, indeed, 
were the Rosewarnes ; and scarcely a day passed that he did not 
call at the inn and have a chat with George Rosewarne, or with 
his wife and daughters. For the rest, Mr. Roscorla was a small 


THE LAST LOOK BACK. 


43 


man, sparely built, with somewhat fresh complexion, close-cropped 
gray hair, and iron-gray whiskers. He dressed very neatly and 
methodically ; he was fairly* light and active in his walk; and he 
had a grave, good-natured smile. He was much improved in con- 
stitution, indeed, since he came to Eglosilyan ; for that was not 
a place to let any one die of languor, or to encourage complexions 
of the color of apple-pudding. Mr. Roscorla, indeed, had the ap- 
pearance of a pleasant little country lawyer, somewhat finical in 
dress and grave in manner, and occasionally just a trifle super- 
cilious and cutting in his speech. 

He had received Wenna Rosewarne’s brief and hurriedly written 
note ; and if accident had not thrown her in his way, he would 
doubtless have granted her that time for reflection which she de- 
manded. But happening to be out, he saw her go down towards 
the rocks beyond the harbor. She had a pretty figure, and she 
walked gracefully ; when he saw her at a distance some little flut- 
ter of anxiety disturbed his heart. That glimpse of her — the pos- 
sibility of securing as his constant companion a girl who walked 
so daintily and dressed so neatly — added some little warmth of 
feeling to the wish he had carefully reasoned out and expressed. 
For the offer he had sent to Miss Wenna was the result of much 
calculation. He was half aware that he had let his youth slip by 
and idled away his opportunities ; there was now no chance of his 
engaging in any profession or pursuit ; there was little chance of 
his bettering his condition by a rich marriage. What could he 
now offer to a beautiful young creature possessed of fortune, such 
as he had often looked out for, in return for herself and her money ? 
Not his gray hairs, and his asthmatic evenings in winter, and the 
fixed and narrow and oftentimes selfish habits and opinions be- 
gotten of a solitary life. Here, on the other hand, was a young 
lady of pleasing manners and honest nature, and of humble wishes, 
as became her station, whom he might induce to marry him. She 
had scarcely ever moved out of the small circle around her ; and 
in it were no possible lovers for her. If he did not marry her, she 
might drift into as hopeless a position as his own. If she con- 
sented to marry him, would they not be able to live in a friendly 
way together, gradually winning each other’s sympathy, and mak- 
ing the world a little more sociable and comfortable for both? 
There was no chance of his going back to the brilliant society in 
which he had once moved ; for there was no one whom he could 


44 


THREE FEATHERS. 


expect to die and leave him any money. When he went up to 
town and spent an evening or two at his club, he found himself 
almost wholly among strangers ; and he could not get that satis- 
faction out of a solitary dinner that once was his. He returned 
to his cottage at Eglosilyan with some degree of resignation ; and 
fancied he could live well enough there if Wenna Rosewarne would 
only come to relieve him from its frightful loneliness. 

He blushed when he went forward to her on these rocks, and 
was exceedingly embarrassed, and could scarcely look her in the 
face as he begged her pardon for intruding on her, and hoped she 
would resume her seat. She was a little pale, and would have 
liked to get away, but was probably so frightened that she did 
not know how to take the step. Without a word, she sat down 
again, her heart beating as if it would suffocate her. Then there 
was a terrible pause. 

Mr. Roscorla discovered at this moment — and the shock almost 
bewildered him — that he would have to play the part of a lover. 
He had left that out of the question. He had found it easy to 
dissociate love from marriage in writing a letter ; in fact he had 
written it mainly to get over the necessity of shamming sentiment ; 
but here was a young and sensitive girl, probably with a good deal 
of romantic nonsense in her head, and he was going to ask her to 
marry him. And just at this moment, also, a terrible recollection 
flashed in on his mind of Wenna Rosewarne’s liking for humor, and 
of the merry light he had often seen in her eyes, however demure 
her manner might be ; and then it occurred to him that if he did 
play the lover, she would know that he knew he was making a fool 
of himself, and laugh at him in the safe concealment of her own 
room. 

“ Of course,” he said, making a sudden plunge, followed by a 
gasp or two — “ of course — Miss Wenna — of course you were sur- 
prised to get my letter — a letter containing an offer of marriage, 
and almost nothing about affection in it. Well, there are some 
things one can neither write nor say — they have so often been 
the subject of good-natured ridicule that — that — ” 

“ I think one forgets that,” Wenna said timidly, “ if one is in 
earnest about anything.” 

“ Miss Wenna,” he said, “ you know I find it very difficult to 
say what I should like to say. The letter did not tell you half — 
probably you thought it too dry and business-like. But at all events 
vou were not offended 2” 


THE LAST LOOK BACK. 


45 


“ Oh no,” she said, wondering how she could get away, and 
whether a precipitate plunge into the sea below her would not be 
the simplest plan. Her head, she felt, was growing giddy, and 
she began to hear snatches of “ Wapping Old Stairs ” in the roar 
of the waves around her. 

But he continued to talk to her, insisting on much he had said 
in his letter, and that with a perfect faith in its truth. So far as 
his own experience went, the hot-headed romanticism of youth had 
only led to mischief. Then the mere fact that she allowed him 
to talk was everything; a point was gained in that she had not 
straightway sent him off. 

Incidentally he spoke of her charitable labors among the poorer 
folks of Eglosilyan ; and here he speedily saw he had got an open- 
ing, and he made use of it dexterously. For Miss Wenna’s weak 
side was a great distrust of herself, and a longing to be assured 
that she was cared for by anybody, and of some little account in 
the world. To tell her that the people of Eglosilyan were without 
exception fond of her, and ready at all moments to say kind things 
of her, was the sweetest flattery to her ears. Mr. Roscorla easily 
perceived this, and made excellent use of his discovery. If she 
did not quite believe all that she heard, she was secretly delighted 
to hear it. It hinted at the possible realization of all her dreams, 
even though she could never be beautiful, rich, and of noble pres- 
ence. Wenna’s heart rather inclined to her companion just then. 
He seemed to her to be a connecting link between her and her 
manifold friends in Eglosilyan ; for how had he heard those 
things, which she had not heard, if he were not in general com- 
munication with them ? He seemed to her, too, a friendly coun- 
sellor on whom she could rely ; he was the very first, indeed who 
had ever offered to help her in her work. 

“ It is far more a matter of intention than of temper,” he con- 
tinued, speaking in a roundabout way of marriage. “ When once 
two people find out the good qualities in each other, they should 
fix their faith on those, and let the others be overlooked as much 
as possible. But I don’t think there is much to be feared from 
your temper, Miss Wenna; and as for mine — I suppose I get vexed 
sometimes, like other people, but I don’t think I am bad-tempered, 
and I am sure I should never be bad-tempered to you. I don’t 
think I should readily forget what I owe you for taking pity on 
a solitary old fellow like myself, if I can only persuade you to do 


46 


THREE FEATHERS. 


that, and for being content to live a humdrum life up in that small 
cottage. By the way, do you like riding, Wenna? Has your 
father got a lady’s saddle ?” 

The question startled her so that the blood rushed to her face 
in a moment, and she could not answer. Was it not that very 
morning that she had been asked almost the same question by 
Mr. Trelyon ? And while she was dreamily looking at an imagi- 
native picture of her future life, calm and placid and common- 
place, the sudden introduction into it of Harry Trelyon almost 
frightened her. The mere recalling of his name, indeed, shattered 
that magic-lantern slide, and took her back to their parting of the 
forenoon, when he left her in something of an angry fashion ; or, 
rather, it took her still further back — to one bright summer morn- 
ing on which she had met young Trelyon riding over the downs 
to St. Gennis. We all of us know how apt the mind is to retain 
one particular impression of a friend’s appearance, sometimes even 
in the matter of dress and occupation. When we recall such and 
such a person, we think of a particular smile, a particular look ; 
perhaps one particular incident of his or her life. Whenever Wen- 
na Rosewarne thought of Mr. Trelyon, she thought of him as she 
saw him on that one morning. She was coming along the rough 
path that crosses the bare uplands by the sea ; he was riding by 
another path some little distance off, and did not notice her. The 
boy was riding hard ; the sunlight was on his face ; he was sing- 
ing aloud some song about the Cavaliers and King Charles. Two 
or three years had come and gone since then. She had seen Mas- 
ter Harry in many a mood, and not unfrequently ill-tempered ; but 
whenever she thought of him suddenly, her memory presented her 
with that picture ; and it was the picture of a handsome English 
lad riding by on a summer morning, singing a brave song, and with 
all the light of youth and hope and courage shining on his face. 

She rose quickly, and with a sigh, as if she had been dreaming 
for a time, and forgetting for a moment the sadness of the world. 

“ Oh, you asked about a saddle,” she said, in a matter-of-fact 
way. “Yes, I think my father has one. I think I must be going 
home now, Mr. Roscorla.” 

“ No, not yet,” he said, in a pleading way. “ Give me a few 
more minutes. I mayn’t have another chance before you make 
up your mind, and then, when that is done, I suppose it is all 
over, so far as persuasion goes. What I am most anxious about 


{ 


THE LAST LOOK BACK. 


47 


is that you should believe there is more affection in my offer than 
I have actually conveyed in words. Don’t imagine it is merely a 
commonplace bargain I want you to enter into. I hope, indeed, 
that in time I shall win from you something warmer than affec- 
tion, if only you give me the chance. Now, Wenna, won’t you 
give me some word of assurance— some hint that it may come all 
right?” 

She stood before him, with her eyes cast down, and remained 
silent for what seemed to him a strangely long time. Was she 
bidding good-bye to all the romantic dreams of her youth — to 
that craving in a girl’s heart for some firm and sure ideal of manly 
love and courage and devotion to which she can cling through 
good report and bad report ? Was she reconciling herself to the 
plain and common ways of the married life placed before her? 
She said at length, in a low voice — 

“ You won’t ask me to leave Eglosilyan ?” 

“ Certainly not,” he said, eagerly. “ And you will see how I 
will try to join you in all your work there, and how much easier 
and pleasanter it will be for you, and how much more satisfactory 
for all the people around you.” 

She put out her hand timidly, her eyes still cast down. 

“You will be my wife, Wenna?” 

“Yes,” she said. 

Mr. Roscorla was conscious that he ought at this high moment 
in a man’s life to experience a strange thrill of happiness. He 
almost waited for it ; but he felt instead a very distinct sense of 
embarrassment in not knowing what to do or say next. He sup- 
posed that he ought to kiss her, but he dared not. As he himself 
had said, Wenna Rosewarne was so fine and shy that he shrank 
from wounding her extreme sensitiveness; and to step forward 
and kiss this quiet and gentle creature, who stood there with her 
pale face faintly flushed and her eyes averted — why, it was im- 
possible. He had heard of girls, in wild moments of pleasure 
and persuasion, suddenly raising their tear -filled eyes to their 
lover’s face, and signing away their whole existence with one full, 
passionate, and yearning kiss. But to steal a kiss from this calm 
little girl? He felt he should be acting the part of a jocular 
ploughboy. 

“ Wenna,” he said at length, “ you have made me very happy. 
I am sure you will never repent your decision ; at least I shall do 


48 


THREE FEATHERS. 


my best to make you think you have done right. And, Wenna, 
I have to dine with the Trelyons on Friday evening ; would you 
allow me to tell them something of what has happened ?” 

“ The Trelyons !” she repeated, looking up in a startled way. 

It was of evil omen for this man’s happiness that the mere 
mention of that word turned this girl, who had just been yielding 
up her life to him, into a woman as obdurate and unimpression- 
able as a piece of marble. 

“ Mr. Roscorla,” she said, with a certain hard decision of voice, 
“ I must ask you to give me back that promise I made. I forgot 
— it was too hurried ; why would you not wait ?” 

He was fairly stupefied. 

“ Mr. Roscorla,” she said, with almost something of petulant 
impatience in her voice, “ you must let me go now ; I am quite 
tired out. I will write to you to-morrow or next day, as I prom- 
ised.” 

She passed him and went on, leaving him unable to utter a 
word of protest. But she had only gone a few steps when she 
returned, and held out her hand and said — 

“ I hope I have not offended you ? It seems that I must offend 
everybody now ; but I am a little tired, Mr. Roscorla.” 

There was just the least quiver about her lips ; and as all this 
was a profound mystery to him, he fancied he must have tired her 
out, and he inwardly called himself a brute. 

“ My dear Wenna,” he said, “ you have not offended me — you 
have not really. It is I who must apologize to you. I am so 
sorry I should have worried you ; it was very inconsiderate. Pray 
take your own time about that letter.” 

So she went away, and passed around to the other side of the 
rocks, and came in view of the small winding harbor, and the 
mill, and the inn. Far away up there, over the cliffs, were the 
downs on which she had met Harry Trelyon that summer morn- 
ing as he rode by, singing in the mere joyousness of youth, and 
happy and pleased with all the world. She could hear the song 
he was singing then ; she could see the sunlight that was shining 
on his face. It appeared to her to be long ago. This girl was 
but eighteen years of age, and yet, as she walked down towards 
Eglosilyan there was a weight on her heart that seemed to tell 
her she was growing old. 

And now the western sky was red with the sunset, and the rich 


THROWING A FLY. 


49 


light burned along the crests of the hills, on the golden furze, the 
purple heather, and the deep-colored rocks. The world seemed all 
ablaze up there ; but down here, as she went by the harbor and 
crossed over the bridge by the mill, Eglosilyan lay pale and gray 
in the hollow ; and even the great black wheel was silent. 


CHAPTER V. 

THROWING A FLY. 

Harry Trelyon had a cousin named Juliott Penaluna, who 
lived at Penzance with her father, an irascible old clergyman, who, 
while yet a poor curate, had the good fortune to marry Mrs. Tre- 
lyon’s sister. Miss Juliott was a handsome, healthy, English-look- 
ing girl, with blue eyes and brown hair, frank enough in her ways, 
fairly well-read, fond of riding and driving, and very specially fond 
of her cousin. There had never been any concealment about that. 
Master Harry, too, liked his cousin in a way, as he showed by his 
rudeness to her ; but he used plainly to tell her that he would not 
marry her ; whereupon she would be angry with him for his im- 
pertinence, and end by begging him to be good friends again. 

At last she went, as her mother had done before her, and en- 
couraged the attentions of a fair, blue-eyed, pensive young curate, 
one who was full of beautiful enthusiasms and idealisms, in which 
he sought to interest the mind of this exceedingly practical young 
woman, who liked cliff-hunting, and had taught herself to swim 
in the sea. Just before she pledged her future to him she wrote 
to Harry Trelyon, plainly warning him of what was going to hap- 
pen. In a fashion she asked for his advice. It was a timid letter 
for her to write, and she even showed some sentiment in it. The 
reply, written in a coarse, sprawling, school-boy hand, was as fol- 
lows: 

“Trelyon Hall, Monday Afternoon. 

“ Dear Jue, — 

“All right. You’re a fool to marry a parson. What would 
you like for a wedding present ? 

“ Affectionately yours, 

“Harry Trelyon.” 


4 


50 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Posts don’t go very fast in Cornwall ; but just as soon as a let- 
ter from Penzance could reach him, Master Harry had his answer. 
And it was this : 

“The Hollies, Penzance, Wednesday. 

“Dear Harry, — 

“I am glad to receive a letter from you in which there is no 
ill-spelling. There is plenty of ill-temper, however, as usual. You 
may send your wedding presents to those who care for them : I 
don’t. “ Juliott Penaluna.” 

Master Harry burst into a roar of laughter when he received 
that letter ; but, all the same, he could not get his cousin to write 
him a line for months thereafter. Now, however, she had come 
to visit some friends at Wadebridge ; and she agreed to drive over 
and join Mrs. Trelyon’s little dinner-party, to which Mr. Roscorla 
had also been invited. Accordingly, in the afternoon, when Harry 
Trelyon was seated on the stone steps outside the Hall door, en- 
gaged in making artificial flies, Miss Penaluna drove up in a tiny 
chariot drawn by a beautiful little pair of ponies ; and when the 
boy had jumped down and gone to the ponies’ heads, and when 
she had descended from the carriage, Master Harry thought it was 
time for him to lay aside his silk, rosin, feathers, and what not, 
and go forward to meet her. 

“ How are you, Jue ?” he said, offering to kiss her, as was his 
custom ; “ and where’s your young man ?” 

She drew back, offended ; and then she looked at him, and 
shrugged her shoulders, and gave him her cheek to kiss. He was 
only a boy, after all. 

“ Well, Harry, I am not going to quarrel with you,” she said, 
with a good-natured smile ; “ although I suppose I shall have 
plenty of cause before I go. Are you as rude as ever ? Do you 
talk as much slang as ever?” 

“ I like to hear you talk of slang !” he said. “ Who calls her 
ponies Brandy and Soda? Weren’t you wild, Jue, when Captain 
Tulliver came up and said, ‘ Miss Penaluna, how are your dear 
Almonds and Raisins V ” 

“ If I had given him a cut with my whip, I should have made 
him dance,” said Miss Juliott, frankly ; “ then he would have for- 
gotten to turn out his toes. Harry, go and see if that boy has 
taken in my things.” 


THROWING A FLY. 


51 


u I won’t. There’s plenty of time ; and I want to talk to you. 
I say, Jue, what made you go and get engaged down in Penzance ? 
Why didn’t you cast your eye in this direction ?” 

“ Well, of all the impertinent things that I ever heard !” said 
Miss Juliott, very much inclined to box his ears. “ Do you think 
I ever thought of marrying you 

“ Yes, I do,” he said, coolly ; “ and you would throw over that 
parson in a minute, if I asked you — you know you would, Jue. 
But I’m not good enough for you.” 

“ Indeed, you are not,” she said, with a toss of the head. “ I 
would take you for a gamekeeper, but not for a husband.” 

“ Much need you’ll have of a gamekeeper, when you become 
Mrs. Tressider !” said he, with a rude laugh. “ But I didn’t mean 
myself, Jue. I meant that if you were going to marry a parson, 
you might have come here and had a choice. We can show you 
all sorts at this house — fat and lean, steeples and beer -barrels, 
bandy-legged and knock-kneed, whichever you like — you’ll always 
find an ample assortment on these elegant premises. The stock 
is rather low just now — I think we’ve only two or three; but 
you’re supplied already, ain’t you, Jue? Well, I never expected 
it of you. You were a good sort of chap at one time; but I sup- 
pose you can’t climb trees any more now. There, I’ll let you go 
into the house ; all the servants are waiting for you. If you see 
my grandmother, tell her she must sit next me at dinner — if a 
parson sits next me, I’ll kill him.” 

Just as Miss Juliott passed into the Hall, a tall, fair- haired, 
gentle-faced woman, dressed wholly in white, and stepping very 
softly and silently, came down the staircase, so that, in the twi- 
light, she almost appeared to be some angel descending from 
heaven. She came forward to her visitor with a smile on the 
pale and wistful face, and took her hand and kissed her on the 
forehead ; after which, and a few words of inquiry, Miss Penaluna 
was handed over to the charge of a maid. The tall, fair woman 
passed noiselessly on, and went into a chamber at the farther end 
of the hall, and shut the door ; and presently the low, soft tones 
of a harmonium were heard, appearing to come from some con- 
siderable distance, and yet filling the house with a melancholy and 
slumberous music. 

Surely it could not be this gentle music which brought to Mas- 
ter Harry’s face a most un-Christian scowl? What harm could 


52 


THREE FEATHERS. 


there be in a solitary widow wrapping herself up in her imagina- 
tive sorrow, and saturating the whole of her feeble, impressionable, 
and withal kindly nature with a half-religious, half-poetic senti- 
ment ? What although those days which she devoted to services 
in memory of her relatives who were dead — and, most of all, in 
memory of her husband whom she had really loved — resembled, 
in some respects, the periods in which an opium-eater resolves to 
give himself up to the strange and beautiful sensations beyond 
which he can imagine no form of happiness ? Mrs. Trelyon was 
nothing of a zealot or devotee. She held no particular doctrines ; 
she did not even countenance High-Church usages, except in so 
far as music and painting and dim religious lights aided her en- 
deavors to produce a species of exalted intoxication. She did not 
believe herself to be a wicked sinner, and she could not under- 
stand the earnest convictions and pronounced theology of the 
Dissenters around her. But she drank of religious sentiment as 
other persons drink in beautiful music ; and all the aids she could 
bring to bear in producing this feeling of blind ecstasy she had 
collected together in the private chapel attached to Trelyon Hall. 
At this very moment she was seated there alone. The last rays 
of the sun shone through narrow windows of painted glass, and 
carried beautiful colors with them into the dusk of the curiously 
furnished little building. She herself sat before a large harmo- 
nium, and there was a stain of rose-color and of violet on the 
white silk costume that she wore. It was one of her notions that, 
though black might well represent the grief immediately follow- 
ing the funeral of one’s friends, pure white was the more appropri- 
ate mourning when one had become accustomed to their loss, and 
had turned one’s eyes to the shining realms which they inhabit. 
Mrs. Trelyon never went out of mourning for her husband, who 
had been dead over a dozen years ; but the mourning was of pure 
white ; so that she wandered through the large and empty rooms 
of Trelyon Hall, or about the grounds outside, like a ghost ; and, 
like a ghost, she was ordinarily silent and shy and light-footed. 
She was not much of a companion for the rude, impetuous, self- 
willed boy whose education she had handed over to grooms and 
gamekeepers, and to his own very pronounced instincts. 

The frown that came over the lad’s handsome face as he sat 
on the door -step, resuming his task of making trout -flies, was 
caused by the appearance of a clergyman, who came walking for- 


THROWING A FLY. 


53 


ward from one of the hidden paths in the garden. There was 
nothing really distressing or repulsive about the look of this 
gentleman ; although, on the other hand, there was nothing very 
attractive. He was of middle age and middle height ; he wore a 
rough brown beard and moustache ; his face was gray and full of 
lines ; his forehead was rather narrow ; and his eyes were shrewd 
and watchful. But for that occasional glance of the eyes you 
would have taken him for a very ordinary, respectable, common- 
place person, not deserving of notice, except for the length of his 
coat. When Master Harry saw him approach, however, a diabol- 
ical notion leaped into the young gentleman’s head. He had been 
practising the throwing of flies against the wind; and on the 
lawn were the several pieces of paper, at different distances, at 
which he had aimed, while the slender trout-rod, with a bit of 
line and a fly at the end of it still dangling, was close by his 
hand. Instantaneously he put the rod against the wall, so that 
the hook was floating in front of the door just about the height 
of a man’s head. Would the Rev. Mr. Barnes look at the door- 
steps, rather than in front of him, in passing into the house, and 
so find an artificial fly fastened in his nose ? Mr. Barnes was no 
such fool. 

“ It is a pleasant afternoon, Mr. Trelyon,” he said, in grave and 
measured accents, as he came up. 

Harry Trelyon nodded, as he smoothed out a bit of red silk 
thread. Then Mr. Barnes went forward, carefully put aside the 
dangling fly, and went into the house. 

“ The fish won’t rise to-night,” said Master Harry to himself, 
with a grin on his face. u But parsons don t take the fly readily ; 
you’ve got to catch them with bait ; and the bait they like best 
is a widow’s mite. And now, I suppose, I must go and dress for 
dinner ; and don’t I wish I was going down to Mrs. Rosewarne’s 
parlor instead !” 

But another had secured a better right to go into Mrs. Rose- 
warne’s parlor. 


54 


THREE FEATHERS. 


CHAPTER VI. 

THE AMONG THE TAILORS. 

This other gentleman was also dressing for Mrs. Trelyon’s din- 
ner-party, and he was in a pleased frame of mind. Never before, 
indeed, had Mr. Roscorla been so distinctly and consciously happy. 
That forenoon, when his anxiety had become almost distressing 

partly because he honestly liked Wenna Rosewarne and wanted 

to marry her, and partly because he feared the mortification of a 
refusal— her letter had come ; and, as he read the trembling, in- 
genuous, and not-very -well-composed lines and sentences, a great 
feeling of satisfaction stole over him, and he thanked her a thou- 
sand times, in his heart, for having given him this relief. And 
he was the more pleased that it was so easy to deal with a writ- 
ten consent. He was under no embarrassment as to how he 
should express his gratitude, or as to whether he ought to kiss 
her. He could manage correspondence better than a personal in- 
terview. He sat down and wrote her a very kind and even affec- 
tionate letter, telling her that he would not intrude himself too 
soon upon her, especially as he had to go up to Trelyon Hall that 
evening ; and saying, too, that, in any case, he could never ex- 
pect to tell her how thankful he was to her. That she would dis- 
cover from his conduct to her during their married life. 

But, to his great surprise, Mr. Roscorla found that the writing 
and sending off of that letter did not allay the extraordinary ner- 
vous excitement that had laid hold of him. He could not rest. 
He called in his housekeeper, and rather astonished that elderly 
person by saying he was much pleased with her services, and 
thereupon he presented her with a sovereign to buy a gown. 
Then he went into the garden, and meant to occupy himself with 
his flowers ; but he found himself staring at them without seeing 
them. Then he went back to his parlor and took a glass of sher- 
ry to steady his nerves — but in vain. Then he thought he would 
go down to the inn, and ask to see Wenna ; but again he changed 
his mind, for how was he to meet the rest of the family without 


THE AMONG THE TAILORS. 55 

being prepared for the interview ? Probably he never knew how 
he passed these two or three hours ; but at length the time came 
for him to dress for dinner. 

And, as he did so, the problem that occupied his mind was to 
discover the probable reasons that had induced Wenna Rosewarne 
to promise to be his wife. Had her parents advised her to marry 
a man who could at least render her future safe? Or had she 
taken pity on his loneliness, and been moved by some hope of re- 
forming his ways and habits of thinking ? Or had she been won 
over by his pictures of her increased influence among the people 
around her ? He could not tell. Perhaps, he said to himself, she 
said yes because she had not the courage to say no. Perhaps she 
had been convinced by his arguments that the wild passion of 
love, for which youth is supposed to long, is a dangerous thing ; 
and was there not constantly before her eyes an example of the 
jealousy and quarrelling and misery that may follow that fatal 
delirium ? Or it might be — and here Mr. Roscorla more nearly 
approached the truth — that this shy, sensitive, self -distrustful girl 
had been so surprised to find herself of any importance to any 
one, and so grateful to him for his praise of her, and for this 
highest mark of appreciation that a man can bestow, that her 
sudden gratitude softened her heart, and disposed her to yield to 
his prayer. And who could tell but that this present feeling 
might lead to a still warmer feeling under the generous influence 
of a constant kindness and appreciation ? It was with something 
of wonder and almost of dismay — and with a wholly new sense 
of his own unworthiness — that Mr. Roscorla found himself regard- 
ing the possibility of his winning a young girl’s first love. 

Never before in his life — not even in his younger days, when 
he had got a stray hint that he would probably meet a duchess 
and her three daughters at a particular party — had he dressed 
with so much care. He was, on the whole, well pleased with 
himself. He had to admit that his gray hair was changing to 
white ; but many people considered white hair, with a hale com- 
plexion, rather an ornament than otherwise. For the rest, he re- 
solved that he would never dress again to go to any party to 
which Miss Wenna Rosewarne was not also invited. He would 
not decorate *himself for mere strangers and acquaintances. 

He put on a light top-coat and went out into the quiet summer 
evening. There was a scent of roses in the air, and the great 


56 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Atlantic was beautiful and still ; it was a time for lovers to be 
walking through twilight woods or in honeysuckle lanes, rather 
than for a number of people, indifferent to each other, to sit down 
to the vulgar pleasures of the table. He wished that Wenna 
Rosewarne had been of that party. 

There were two or three children at his gate — bright-cheeked, 
clean, and well-clad, as all the Eglosilyan children are — and when 
they saw him come out they ran away. He was ashamed of this ; 
for, if Wenna had seen it, she would have been grieved. He 
called on them to come back ; they stood in the road, not sure of 
him. At length a little woman of six came timidly along to him, 
and looked at him with her big, wondering blue eyes. He patted 
her head and asked her name, and then he put his hand in his 
pocket. The others, finding that their ambassador had not been 
beheaded on the spot, came up also, and formed a little circle, a 
cautious yard or two off. 

“ Look here !” he said to the eldest ; “ here is a shilling, and 
you go and buy sweetmeats, and divide them equally among you. 
Or, wait a bit — come along with me, the whole of you, and we’ll 
see whether Mrs. Cornish has got any cake for you.” 

He drove the flock of them into that lady’s kitchen, much to 
her consternation, and there he left them. But he had not got 
half-way through the little garden again before he returned, and 
went to the door and called in to the children — 

“ Mind, you can swing on the gate whenever you like, so long 
as you take care and don’t hurt yourselves.” 

And so he hurried away again ; and he hoped that some day, 
when he and Wenna Rosewarne were passing, she would see the 
children swinging on his gate, and she would be pleased that they 
did not run away. 

“Your Polly has never been false, she declares — ” 

he tried to hum the air, as he had often heard Wenna hum it, as 
he walked rapidly down the hill, and along a bit of the valley, 
and then up one of the great gorges lying behind Eglosilyan. 
He had avoided the road that went by the inn ; he did not wish to 
see any of the Rosewarnes just then. Moreover, his rapid walk- 
ing was not to save time, for he had plenty of that ; but to give 
himself the proud assurance that he was still in excellent wind. 
Miss Wenna must not imagine that she was marrying an old man. 


THE 


AMONG THE TAILORS. 


51 


Give him but as good a horse as Harry Trelyon’s famous Dick, 
and he would ride that dare-devil young gentleman for a wager 
to Launceston and back. Why, he had only arrived at that pe- 
riod when a sound constitution reaches its maturity. Old, or 
even elderly ? He switched at weeds with his cane, and was con- 
scious that he was in the prime of life. 

At the same time, he did not like the notion of younger men 
than himself lounging about Mrs. Rosewarne’s parlor; and he 
thought he might just as well give Harry Trelyon a hint that 
Wenna Rosewarne was engaged. An excellent opportunity was 
offered him at this moment, for as he went up through the grounds 
to the front of the Hall he found Master Harry industriously 
throwing a fly at certain bits of paper on the lawn. He had re- 
sumed this occupation, after having gone inside and dressed, as a 
handy method of passing the time until his cousin Juliott should 
appear. 

“ How do you do, Trelyon ?” said Mr. Roscorla, in a friendly 
way ; and Harry nodded. “ I wish I could throw a fly like you. 
By the bye, I have a little bit of news for you — for yourself alone, 
mind.” 

“All right; fire away,” said Master Harry, still making the 
fine line of the trout-rod whistle through the air. 

“ Well, it is rather a delicate matter, you know. I don’t want 
it talked about ; but the fact is, I am going to marry Miss Rose- 
warne.” 

There was no more aiming at those bits of paper. The tall 
and handsome lad turned and stared at his companion as if the 
latter had been a maniac ; and then he said — 

“ Miss Rosewarne ? Wenna Rosewarne ?” 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Roscorla, distinctly conscious that Harry Tre- 
lyon was regarding his white hair and general appearance. 

The younger man said nothing more, but began to whistle in 
an absent way ; and then, just as if Mr. Roscorla had no existence 
whatever, he proceeded to reel in the line of his rod, he fastened 
the fly to one of the rings, and then walked off. 

“ You’ll find my mother inside,” he said ; and so Mr. Roscorla 
went into the Hall, and was soon in Mrs. Trelyon’s drawing-room, 
among her six or eight guests. 

Harry Trelyon did not appear until dinner was announced; 
and then he was just in time to take his grandmother in. He 


58 


THREE FEATHERS. 


took care, also, to have his cousin J uliott on his other side ; and 
to both of these ladies it was soon apparent that something had 
occurred to put Master Harry into one of his most ungovernable 
moods. 

“ Harry ?” said his mother, from the other end of the table, as 
an intimation that he should say grace. 

There was no response, despite Miss Juliott’s appealing look; 
and so Mrs. Trelyon had to turn for assistance to one of the cler- 
gymen near her, who went through the prescribed form. 

“Isn’t it shocking?” said Miss Penaluna, across the table, to 
Harry’s grandmother, who was not nearly so severe on him for 
such conduct as she ought to have been. 

“ Grace before meat takes too much for granted,” said the 
young man, unconcernedly. “ How can you tell whether you are 
thankful until you see what sort of dinner it is ? And what’s the 
use of keeping a dog and barking yourself? Ain’t there three 
parsons down there ?” 

Miss Juliott, being engaged to a clergyman, very naturally re- 
sented this language ; and the two cousins had rather a stormy 
fight, at the end of which Master Harry turned to his grand- 
mother and declared that she was the only woman of common- 
sense he had ever known. 

“ Well, it runs in the blood, Harry,” said the old lady, “ that 
dislike to clergymen ; and I never could find out any reason for 
it, except when your grandfather hunted poor Mr. Pascoe that 
night. Dear, dear! what a jealous man your grandfather was, 
to be sure ; and the way he used to pet me when I told him I 
never saw the man I’d look at after seeing him. Dear, dear ! — 
and the day he sold those two manors to the Company, you know, 
he came back at night and said I was as good a wife as any in 
England — he did, indeed — and the bracelet he gave me then, 
that shall go to your wife on your wedding-day, Harry, I promise 
you, and you won’t find its match about this part of the country, 
I can tell you. But don’t you go and sell the lordship of Trelyon. 
Many a time your grandfather was asked to sell it, and he did 
well by selling the other two ; but Trelyon he would never sell, 
nor your father, and I hope you won’t either, Harry. Let them 
work the quarries for you — that is fair enough — and give you 
your royalty ; but don’t part with Trelyon, Harry, for you might 
as well be parting with your own name.” 


THE 


AMONG THE TAILORS. 


59 


“ Well, I can’t, grandmother, you know ; but I am fearfully in 
want of a big lump of money, all the same.” 

“Money? what do you want with a lot of money? You’re 
not going to take to gambling or horse-racing, are you ?” 

“ I can’t tell you what I want it for — not at present, anyway,” 
said the lad, looking rather gloomy ; and with that the subject 
dropped, and a brief silence ensued at that end of the table. 

Mr. Tressider, however, the mild and amiable young curate to 
whom Miss Juliott was engaged, having been rather left out in 
the cold, struck in at this moment, blushing slightly : 

“ I heard you say something about lordships of manors,” he 
observed, addressing himself rather to Trelyon’s grandmother. 
“Did it ever occur to you what a powerful thing a word from 
William the Conqueror must have been, when it could give to a 
particular person and his descendants absolute possession of a 
piece of the globe?” 

Mrs. Trelyon stared at the young man. Had a relative of hers 
gone and engaged herself to a dangerous Revolutionary, who, in 
the guise of a priest, dared to trifle with the tenure of land? 
Mr. Tressider was as innocent of any such intention as the babe 
unborn ; but he was confused by her look of astonishment, he 
blushed more violently than before, and only escaped from his 
embarrassment by the good services of Miss Penaluna, who turned 
the whole matter into ridicule, and asked what William the Con- 
queror was about when he let a piece of the world come into the 
hands of Harry Trelyon. 

“ And how deep down have you a hold on it, Harry ?” she said. 
“ How far does your right over the minerals extend ? From the 
surface right down to the centre ?” 

Mr. Tressider was smiling vaguely when Master Harry’s eye fell 
upon him. What harm had the young clergyman, or any other 
clergyman present, done him, that he should have felt a sudden 
dislike to that ingenuous smile ? 

“ Oh, no,” said Trelyon, with a careless impertinence ; “ William 
the Conqueror did not allow the rights of the lord of the manor 
to extend right down to the middle of the earth. There were a 
good many clergymen about him, and they reserved that district 
for their own purposes.” 

“ Harry,” said his cousin to him, in a low voice ; “ is it your 
wish to insult me ? If so, I will leave the room.” 


60 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“Insult you!” he said, with a laugh. “Why, Jue, you must 
be out of your senses. AVhat concern have you in that warmish 
region ?” 

“ I don’t appreciate jokes on such subjects. My father is a 
clergyman, my husband will be a clergyman — ” 

“ Worse luck for you,” he observed frankly, but so that no one 
could hear. 

“ Harry,” she said, “ what do you mean by your dislike to cler- 
gymen ?” 

“ Is that a conundrum ?” said the unregenerate youth. 

For a moment Miss Penaluna seemed really vexed and angry ; 
but she happened to look at Master Harry, and, somehow, her 
displeasure subsided into a look of good-natured resignation. 
There was the least little shrug of the shoulders; and then she 
turned to her neighbor on the right, and began to talk about 
ponies. 

It was certainly not a pleasant dinner-party for those who sat 
near this young gentleman, who was more outrageously capricious 
than ever, except when addressing his grandmother, to whom he 
was always courteous, and even roughly affectionate. That old 
lady eyed him narrowly, and could not quite make out what was 
the matter. Had he been privately engaged in some betting 
transaction that he should want this money ? 

When the ladies left the room, Trelyon asked Mr. Roscorla to 
take his place for a few minutes, and send round the wines ; and 
then he went out and called his mother aside into the study. 

“ Mother,” he said, “ Mr. Roscorla is going to marry Wenna 
Rosewarne.” 

The tall, fair, pale lady did not seem much startled by the 
news. She had very little acquaintance with the affairs of the 
village ; but she knew at least that the Rosewarnes kept the inn, 
and she had, every Sunday morning seen Mrs. Rosewarne and her 
two daughters come into church. 

“ That is the elder one, is it not, who sings in the choir?” 

“ It’s the elder one,” said Master Harry, who knew less about 
the choir. 

“ It is a strange choice for Mr. Roscorla to make,” she ob- 
served. “ I have always considered him very fastidious, and rath- 
er proud of his family. But some men take strange fancies in 
choosing a wife.” 


THE 


AMONG THE TAILORS. 


61 


“ Yes, and some women take precious strange fancies in choos- 
ing a husband,” said the young man, rather warmly. 44 Why, 
she’s worth twenty dozen of him. I don’t know what the dick- 
ens made her listen to the old fool — it is a monstrous shame, 
that’s what I call it. I suppose he’s frightened the girl into it, 
or bought over her father, or made himself a hypocrite, and got 
some person to intercede and scheme and tell lies for him.” 

44 Harry,” said his mother, 44 1 don’t understand why you should 
interest yourself in the matter.” 

44 Oh ! well, it’s only this — that I consider that girl to be the 
best sort of woman I’ve met yet — that’s all ; and I’ll tell you 
what I mean to do, mother — I mean to give her five thousand 
pounds, so that she sha’n’t come to that fellow in a dependent 
way, and let him give himself airs over her because he’s been 
born a gentleman.” 

44 Five thousand pounds !” Mrs. Trelyon repeated, wondering 
whether her son had drunk too much wine at dinner. 

44 Well, but look here, mother,” he said, quite prepared for her 
astonishment. “You know I’ve spent very little — I’ve never 
spent anything like what I’m entitled to ; and next year I shall 
be of age ; and all I want now is for you to help me to get a re- 
lease, you know; and I am sure I shall be able to persuade 
Colonel Ransome to it, for he’ll see it is not any bit of extrav- 
agance on my part — speculation, or anything of that sort, you 
know — ” 

44 My dear child,” said Mrs. Trelyon, startled, for once, into 
earnestness, 44 you will make people believe you are mad. To 
give five thousand pounds to the daughter of an innkeeper, a per- 
fect stranger, as a marriage dowry — why, Harry, what do you 
think people would say of such a thing ? What would they say 
of her ?” 

He looked puzzled for a moment, as though he did not under- 
stand her. It was but for a moment. 44 If you mean what one 
of those parsons would say of her,” he said, impetuously, while a 
sudden flash of anger sprang to his face, 44 1 don’t care ; but my 
answer to it would be to kick him around the grounds and out at 
the gate. Do you think I’d care a brass farthing for anything 
these cringing sneaks might say of her, or of me, or of anybody ? 
And would they dare to say it if you asked her here, and made a 
friend of her?” 


62 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Make a friend of her !” repeated Mrs. Trelyon, almost me- 
chanically. She did not know what length this terrible son of 
hers might not go. 

“ If she is going to marry a friend of yours, why not ?” 

“ Harry, you are most unreasonable — if you will think it over 
for a moment, you will see how this is impossible. If Mr. Ros- 
corla marries this girl, that is his own affair ; he will have society 
enough at home, without wishing to go out and dine. He is do- 
ing it with his eyes open, you may be sure : he has far more 
knowledge of such affairs than you can have. How could I sin- 
gle out this girl from her family to make her a friend ? I should 
have to ask her parents and her sister to come here also, unless 
you wish her to come on sufferance, and throw a reflection on 
them.” 

She spoke quite calmly, but he would not listen to her. He 
chafed and fidgeted, and said, as soon as she had finished — 

“You could do it very well, if you liked. When a woman is 
willing she can always smooth matters down.” 

Mrs. Trelyon flushed slightly, and said, with clear emphasis — 

“I presume that I am best fitted to say what society I shall 
keep ; and I shall have no acquaintance thrust upon me whom I 
would rather not recognize.” 

“Oh, very well,” said the lad, with the proud lips giving evi- 
dence of some sudden decision. “And you won’t help me to get 
that five thousand pounds ?” 

“ I will not. I will not countenance any such folly.” 

“ Then I shall have to raise the money myself.” 

He rang a bell, and a servant appeared. 

“ Tell Jakes to saddle Dick and bring him around directly.” 

His mother let him have his own way, without word or ques- 
tion ; for she was deeply offended, and her feeble and sensitive 
nature had risen in protest against his tyranny. He went off to 
put on a pair of riding-boots and a top-coat ; and by and by he 
came down into the hall again, and went to the door. The night 
was dark, but clear ; there was a blaze of stars overhead ; all the 
world seemed to be quivering with those white throbs of fire. 
The horse and groom stood at the door, their dusky figures being 
scarcely blacker than the trees and bushes around. Harry Tre- 
lyon buttoned up the collar of his light top-coat, took his switch 
in his hand, and sprung into the saddle. At the same moment 


SOME NEW EXPERIENCES. 


63 


the white figure of a lady suddenly appeared at the door, and 
came down a step or two, and said — 

“ Harry, where are you going ?” 

“ To Plymouth first,” the young man answered, as he rode off, 
“ to London afterwards, and then to the devil !” 


CHAPTER VII. 

SOME NEW EXPERIENCES. 

When the first shock of fear and anxiety was over, Wenna 
Rosewarne discovered to her great delight that her engagement 
was a very pleasant thing. The ominous doubts and regrets that 
had beset her mind when she was asked to become Mr. Roscorla’s 
wife seemed to disappear like clouds from a morning sky ; and 
then followed a fair and happy day, full of abundant satisfaction 
and calm. With much inward ridicule of her own vanity, she 
found herself nursing a notion of her self-importance, and giving 
herself airs as if she were already a married woman. Although 
the engagement was kept a profound secret, the mere conscious- 
ness that she had attained to this position in the world lent a new 
assurance to her as she went about the village. She was gifted 
with a new authority over despondent mothers and fractious 
children and selfish fathers as she went her daily rounds ; and 
even in her own home Wenna had more attention paid to her, 
now that she was going to marry Mr. Roscorla. 

There was but one dissentient, and that was Mabyn Rosewarne, 
who fumed and fretted about the match, and sometimes was like 
to cry over it, and at other times grew vastly indignant, and would 
have liked to have gone and given Mr. Roscorla a bit of her mind. 
She pitied her poor weak sister for having been coaxed into an 
engagement by this designing old man ; and the poor weak sister 
was vastly amused by her compassion, and was too good-natured 
to laugh at the valiant protection which this courageous young 
creature of sixteen offered her. Wenna let her sister say what 
she pleased about herself or her future, and used no other argu- 
ment to stop angry words than a kiss, so long as Mabyn spoke 
respectfully of Mr. Roscorla. But this was precisely what Miss 


64 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Mabyn was disinclined to do ; and the consequence was that their 
interviews were generally ended by Wenna becoming indignant, 
drawing herself up, and leaving the room. Then Mabyn would 
follow, and make up the quarrel, and promise never to offend 
again ; but all the same she cherished a deadly animosity towards 
Mr. Roscorla in her heart, and, when her sister was not present, 
she amused her father and shocked her mother by giving a series 
of imitations of Mr. Roscorla’s manner which that gentleman 
would scarcely like to have seen. 

The young lady, however, soon invented what she considered 
a far more effectual means of revenging herself on Mr. Roscorla. 
She never left Wenna’ s side. No sooner did the eldest sister pre- 
pare to go out, than Miss Mabyn discovered that she too would 
like a walk ; and she so persistently did this that Wenna soon 
took it for granted that her sister would go with her wherever 
she went, and invariably waited for her. Accordingly Mr. Ros- 
corla never by any chance went walking with Wenna Rose warn e 
alone; and the younger sister — herself too sulky to enter into 
conversation with him — used to enjoy the malicious pleasure of 
watching him shape his talk to suit the presence of a third per- 
son. For of course Miss Mabyn had read in books of the beauti- 
ful manner in which lovers speak to each other, and of their ten- 
der confidences as they sit by the sea or go rambling through the 
summer woods. Was not the time opportune for these idyllic 
ways ? All the uplands were yellowed with tall-standing corn ; 
the sea was as blue and as still as the sky overhead ; the gardens 
of Eglosilyan were sweet with honeysuckle and moss-roses, and in 
the evenings a pale pink mist hung around the horizon, while the 
silver sickle of the moon came up into the violet sky, and the first 
pale stars appeared in the east. 

“ If our Wenna had a proper sort of lover,” Miss Mabyn used 
to say to herself, bitterly, “ wouldn’t I scheme to have them left 
alone! I would watch for them like a watch-dog that no one 
should come near them, and I should be as proud of him as Wen- 
na herself ; and how happy she would be in talking to me about 
him ! But this horrid old wretch — I wish he would fall over 
Black Cliff some day !” 

She was not aware that, in becoming the constant companion 
of her sister, she was affording this dire enemy of hers a vast 
amount of relief. Mr. Roscorla was in every way satisfied with 


SOME NEW EXPERIENCES. 


65 


his engagement ; the more he saw of Wenna Rosewarne, the more 
he admired her utter self-forgetfulness, and liked a quaint and shy 
sort of humor that interfused her talk and her ways ; but he greatly 
preferred not to be alone with her. He was then beset by some 
vague impression that certain things were demanded of him, in 
the character of a lover, which were exceedingly embarrassing ; 
and which, if he did not act the part well, might awaken her rid- 
icule. On the other hand, if he omitted all those things, might 
she not be surprised by his lack of affection, begin to suspect him, 
and end by disliking him? Yet he knew that not for ten thou- 
sand worlds could he muster up courage to repeat one line of sen- 
timental poetry to her. 

As yet he had never even had the courage to kiss her. He 
knew that this was wrong. In his own house he reflected that a 
man engaged to a woman ought surely to give her some such 
mark of affection — say, in bidding her good-night; and there- 
upon Mr. Roscorla would resolve that as he left the inn that 
evening he would endeavor to kiss his future bride. He never 
succeeded. Somehow Wenna always parted from him in a merry 
mood. These were pleasant evenings in Mrs. Rosewarne’ s parlor ; 
there was a good deal of quiet fun going on ; and if Wenna did 
come along the passage to the door with him, she was generally 
talking and laughing all the way. Of course he was not going to 
kiss her in that mood — as if, to use his own expression, he had 
been a jocular ploughboy. 

He had kissed her hand once. That was on his first meeting 
her after she had written the letter in which she promised to be 
his wife, and Mrs. Rosewarne had sent him into the room where she 
knew her daughter was alone. Wenna rose up to meet him, pale, 
frightened, with her eyes downcast. He took her hand and kiss- 
ed it ; and then, after a pause, he said, “ I hope I shall make you 
happy.” She could not answer. She began to tremble violently. 
He asked her to sit down, and begged of her not to be disturbed. 
She was recalled to herself by the accidental approach of her sis- 
ter Mabyn, who came along the passage, singing, “ Oh, the men 
of merry, merry England,” in excellent imitation of the way in 
which Harry Trelyon used to sing that once famous song as he 
rode his black horse along the highways. Mabyn came into the 
room, stared, and would have gone out, but that her sister called 
to her and asked her to come and hold down a pattern while she 
5 


66 


THREE FEATHERS. 


cut some cloth. Mabyn wondered that her sister should be so 
diligent when a visitor was present. She saw, too, that Wenna’s 
fingers trembled. Then she remained in the room until Mr. Ros- 
corla went, sitting by a window and not overhearing their conver- 
sation, but very much inclined to break in upon it by asking him 
how he dared to come there and propose to marry her sister 
Wenna. 

“ Oh, Wenna,” she said, one evening some time after, when the 
two sisters were sitting out on the rocks at the end of the harbor, 
watching the sun go down behind the sea, “ I cannot bear him 
coming to take you away like that. I shouldn’t mind if he were 
like a sweetheart to you; but he’s a multiplication-table sort of 
sweetheart — everything so regular and accurate and proper. I hate 
a man who always thinks what he’s going to say, and always has 
neat sentences ; and he watches you, and is so self-satisfied, and 
his information is always so correct. Oh, Wenna, I wish you had 
a young and beautiful lover, like a Prince !” 

“ My dear child,” said the elder sister, with a smile, “ young and 
beautiful lovers are for young and beautiful girls, like you.” 

“ Oh, Wenna, how can you talk like that !” said the younger 
sister; “ why will you always believe that you are less pretty than 
other people, when every one knows that you have the most beau- 
tiful eyes in all the world. You have! There’s not anybody in 
all the world has such beautiful and soft eyes as you — you ask 
anybody and they will tell you, if you don’t believe me. But I 
have no doubt — I have no doubt whatever — that Mr. Roscorla will 
try to make you believe that you are very ugly, so that you mayn’t 
think you’ve thrown yourself away.” 

Miss Mabyn looked very indignant, and very much inclined to 
cry at the same time ; but the gentle sister put her hand on hers, 
and said — 

“You will make me quarrel with you some day, Mabyn, if you 
are so unjust to Mr. Roscorla. You are continually accusing him 
of things of which he never dreams. Now he never gets a chance 
that he does not try to praise me in every way, and if there were 
no looking-glasses in the world I have no doubt he would make 
me believe I was quite lovely ; and you shouldn’t say those things 
of him, Mabyn — it isn’t fair. He always speaks kindly of you. 
He thinks you are very pretty, and that you will grow up to be 
very beautiful when you become a woman.” 


SOME NEW EXPERIENCES. 


67 


Mabyn was not to be pacified by this ingenuous piece of flattery. 

“You are such a simpleton, Wenna,” she said, “he can make 
you believe anything.” 

“He does not try to make me believe anything I don’t know 
already,” said the elder sister, with some asperity. 

“ He tries to make you believe he is in love with you,” said 
Mabyn, bluntly. 

Wenna Rosewarne colored up, and was silent for a minute. 
How was she to explain to this sister of hers all those theories 
which Mr. Roscorla had described to her in his first two or three 
letters? She felt that she had not the same gift of expression 
that he had. 

“ You don’t understand — you don’t understand at all, Mabyn, 
what you talk of as love. I suppose you mean the sort of wild 
madness you read of in books; well, I don’t want that kind of 
love at all. There is a quite different sort of love, that comes of re- 
spect and affection and an agreement of wishes, and that is far more 
valuable and likely to be lasting. I don’t want a lover who would 
do wild things, and make one wonder at his heroism, for that is 
the lover you get in books ; but if you want to live a happy life, 
and please those around you, and be of service to them, you must 
have a very different sort of sweetheart — a man who will think of 
something else than a merely selfish passion, who will help you to 
be kind to other people, and whose affection will last through 
years and years.” 

“You have learned your lesson very well,” said Miss Mabyn, 
with a toss of her head. “ He has spent some time in teaching 
you. But as for all that, Wenna, it’s nothing but fudge. What 
a girl wants is to be really loved by a man, and then she can do 
without all those fine sentiments. As for Mr. Roscorla — ” 

“ I do not think we are likely to agree on this matter, dear,” 
said Wenna, calmly, as she rose, “ and so we had better say noth- 
ing about it.” 

“ Oh, I am not going to quarrel with you, Wenna,” said the 
younger sister, promptly. “You and I will always agree very 
well. It is Mr. Roscorla and I who are not likely to agree very 
well — not at all likely, I can assure you.” 

They were walking back to Eglosilyan, under the clear evening 
skies, when whom should they see coming out to meet them but 
Mr. Roscorla himself. It was a pleasant time and place for lovers 


68 


THREE FEATHERS. 


to come together. The warm light left by the sunset still shone 
across the hills ; the clear blue-green water in the tiny harbor lay 
perfectly still ; Eglosilyan had got its day’s work over, and was 
either chatting in the cottage gardens or strolling down to have a 
look at the couple of coasters moored behind the small but pow- 
erful breakwater. But Mr. Roscorla had had no hope of discov- 
ering Wenna alone; he was quite as well content to find Mabyn 
with her, though that young lady, as he came up, looked particu- 
larly fierce, and did not smile at all when she shook hands with 
him. Was it the red glow in the west that gave an extra tinge 
of color to Mr. Roscorla’s face ? Wenna felt that she was better 
satisfied with her engagement when her lover was not present; 
but she put that down to a natural shyness and modesty which 
she considered was probably common to all girls in these strange 
circumstances. 

Mr. Roscorla wished to convoy the two young ladies back to 
the inn, and evidently meant to spend the evening there. But 
Miss Wenna ill requited his gallantry by informing him that she 
had intended to make one or two calls in the evening, which 
would occupy some time: in particular, she had undertaken to 
do something for Mrs. Luke’s eldest girl ; and she had also prom- 
ised to go in and read for half an hour to Nicholas Keam, the 
brother of the wife of the owner of the Napoleon Hotel, who was 
very ill indeed, and far too languid to read for himself. 

“ But you know, Mr. Roscorla,” said Mabyn, with a bitter mal- 
ice, “ if you would go into the Napoleon and read to Mr. Keam, 
Wenna and I could go up to Mother Luke’s, and so we should 
save all that time, and I am sure Wenna is very tired to-day. 
Then you would be so much better able to pick out the things in 
the papers that Mr. Keam wants ; for Wenna never knows what 
is old and what is new, and Mr. Keam is anxious to learn what is 
going on in politics, and the Irish Church, and that kind of thing.” 

Could he refuse? Surely a man who has just got a girl to say 
she will marry him ought not to think twice about sacrificing half 
an hour to helping her in her occupations, especially if she be 
tired. Wenna could not have made the request herself ; but she 
was anxious that he should say yes, now it had been made, for it 
was in a manner a test of his devotion to her ; and she was over- 
joyed and most grateful to him when he consented. What Ma- 
byn thought of the matter was not visible on her face. 


wenna’s first triumph. 


69 


CHAPTER VIII. 
wenna’s first triumph. 

The two girls, as they went up the main street of Eglosilyan 
(it was sweet with the scent of flowers on this beautiful evening), 
left Mr. Roscorla in front of the obscure little public-house he had 
undertaken to visit ; and it is probable that in the whole of Eng- 
land at that moment there was not a more miserable man. He 
knew this Nicholas Keam, and his sister, and his brother-in-law, 
so far as their names went, and they knew him by sight ; but 
he had never said more than good-morning to any one of them, 
and he had certainly never entered this pot-house, where a sort of 
debating society was nightly held by the habitues. But, all the 
same, he would do what he had undertaken to do, for Wenna 
Rosewarne’s sake ; and it was with some sensation of a despair- 
ing heroism that he went up the steps of slate and crossed the 
threshold. 

He looked into the place from the passage. He found before 
him what was really a large kitchen, with a spacious fireplace, 
and heavy rafters across the roof ; but all around the walls there 
was a sort of bench with a high wooden back to it, and on this 
seat sat a number of men — one or two laborers, the rest slate- 
workers — who, in the dusk, were idly smoking and looking at the 
beer on the narrow tables before them. Was this the sort of 
place that his future wife had been in the habit of visiting? 
There was a sort of gloomy picturesqueness about the chamber, 
to be sure ; for, warm as the evening was, a fire burned flickering- 
ly in the grate ; there was enough light to show the tin and cop- 
per vessels shining over the high mantel-piece ; and a couple of 
fair-haired children were playing about the middle of the floor, 
little heeding the row of dusky figures around the tables, whose 
heads were half hidden by tobacco-smoke. 

A tall, thin, fresh-colored woman came along the passage ; and 
Mr. Roscorla was glad that he had not to go in among these la- 


70 


THREE FEATHERS. 


borers to make his business known. It was bad enough to have 
to speak to Mrs. Haigh, the landlady of the Napoleon. 

“ Good-morning, Mrs. Haigh,” said he, with an appearance of 
cheerfulness. 

“ Good-evenin’, zor,” said she, staring at him with those cruelly 
shrewd and clear eyes that the Cornish peasantry have. 

“ I called in to see Mr. Ream,” said he. “ Is he much better ?” 

“ If yii’d like vor to see’n, zor,” said she, rather slowly, as if 
waiting for further explanation, “ yii’ll vind ’n in the rum ” — and 
with that she opened the door of a room on the other side of the 
passage. It was obviously the private parlor of the household — 
an odd little chamber with plenty of colored lithographs on the 
walls, and china and photographs on the mantel-piece ; the floor 
of large blocks of slate ornamented with various devices in chalk ; 
in the corner a cupboard filled with old cut crystal, brass candle- 
sticks, and other articles of luxury. The room had one occupant 
— a tall man who sat in a big wooden chair by the window, his 
head hanging forward between his high shoulders, and his thin 
white hands on the arms of the chair. The sunken cheeks, the 
sallow-white complexion, the listless air, and an occasional sigh of 
resignation, told a sufficiently plain story ; although Mrs. Haigh, 
in regarding her brother, and speaking to him in a low voice, as 
if to arouse his attention, wore an air of brisk cheerfulness strange- 
ly in contrast with the worn look of his face. 

“ Don’t yii knaw Mr. Roscorla, brother Nicholas ?” said his 
sister. “ Don’t yii look mazed, when he’s come vor to zee if 
yii’re better. And yii be much better to-day, brother Nicho- 
las?” 

“ Yes, I think,” said the sick man, agreeing with his sister out 
of mere listlessness. 

“ Oh yes, I think you look much better,” said Mr. Roscorla, 
hastily and nervously, for he feared that both these people would 
see in his face what he thought of this unhappy man’s chances of 
living. But Nicholas Keam mostly kept his eyes turned towards 
the floor, except when the brisk, loud voice of his sister roused 
him and caused him to look up. 

A most awkward pause ensued. Mr. Roscorla felt convinced 
they would think he was mad if he offered to sit down in this 
parlor and read the newspapers to the invalid ; he forgot that 
they did not know him as well as he did himself. On the other 


wenna’s first triumph. 


VI 


hand, would they not consider him a silly person if he admitted 
that he only made the offer in order to please a girl ? Besides, 
he could see no newspapers in the room. Fortunately, at this 
moment Mr. Keam himself came to the rescue by saying, in a 
slow and languid way — 

“ I did expect vor to zee Miss Rosewarne this evenin’ — yaas, I 
did ; and she were to read me the news ; but I suppose now — ” 

“ Oh !” said Mr. Roscorla, quickly, “ I have just seen Miss Rose- 
warne — she told me she expected to see you, hut was a little tired. 
Now, if you like, I will read the newspapers to you as long as the 
light lasts.” 

“Why don’t yii thank the gentleman, brother Nicholas?” said 
Mrs. Haigh, who was apparently most anxious to get away to her 
duties. “ That be very kind of yii, zor. ’Tis a great comfort to 
’n to hear the news ; and I’ll send yii in the papers at once. Yii 
com away with me, Rosana, and yii can come agwain and bring 
the gentleman the newspapers.” 

She dragged off with her a small girl who had wandered in ; 
and Mr. Roscorla was left alone with the sick man. The feelings 
in his heart were not those which Wenna would have expected to 
find there as the result of the exercise of charity. 

The small girl came back, and gave him the newspapers. He 
began to read; she sat down before him and stared up into his 
face. Then a brother of hers came in, and he, too, sat down, and 
proceeded to stare. Mr. Roscorla inwardly began to draw pict- 
ures of the astonishment of certain of his old acquaintances if 
they had suddenly opened that small door, and found him, in the 
parlor of an ale-house, reading stale political articles to an appar- 
ently uninterested invalid and a couple of cottage children. 

He was thankful that the light was rapidly declining ; and long 
before he had reached the half-hour he made that his excuse for 
going. 

“ The next time I come, Mr. Keam,” said he, cheerfully, as he 
rose and took his hat, “ I shall come earlier.” 

“ I did expect vor to zee Miss Rosewarne this evenin’,” said 
Nicholas Keam, ungratefully paying no heed to the hypocritical 
offer ; “ vor she were here yesterday marnin’, and she told me that 
Mr. Trelyon had zeen my brother in London streets, and I want 
vor to know mower about ’n, I dii.” 

“ She told you ?” Mr. Roscorla said, with a sudden and wild 


72 


THREE FEATHERS. 


suspicion filling his mind. “ How did she know that Mr. Trelyon 
was in London ?” 

“ How did she knaw ?” repeated the sick man, indolently. 
“ Why, he zaid zo in the letter.” 

So Mr. Trelyon, whose whereabouts were not even known to his 
own family, was in correspondence with Miss Rosewarne, and she 
had carefully concealed the fact from the man she was going to 
marry. Mr. Roscorla rather absently took his leave. When he 
went outside a clear twilight was shining over Eglosilyan, and 
the first of the yellow stars were palely visible in the gray. He 
walked slowly down towards the inn. 

If Mr. Roscorla had any conviction on any subject whatever, it 
was this — that no human being ever thoroughly and without re- 
serve revealed himself or herself to any other human being. Of 
course he did not bring that as a charge against the human race, 
or against that member of it from whose individual experience 
he had derived his theory — himself; he merely accepted this 
thing as one of the facts of life. People, he considered, might 
be fairly honest, well-intentioned, and moral ; but inside the cir- 
cle of their actions and sentiments that were openly declared 
there was another circle only known to themselves ; and to this 
region the foul bird of suspicion, as soon as it was bom, immedi- 
ately fled on silent wings. Not that, after a minute’s considera- 
tion, he suspected anything very terrible in the present case. He 
was more vexed than alarmed. And yet at times, as he slowly 
walked down the steep street, he grew a little angry, and won- 
dered how this apparently ingenuous creature should have con- 
cealed from him her correspondence with Harry Trelyon, and re- 
solved that he would have a speedy explanation of the whole mat- 
ter. He was too shrewd a man of the world to be tricked by a 
girl, or trifled with by an impertinent lad. 

He was overtaken by the two girls, and they walked together 
the rest of the way. Wenna was in excellent spirits, and was 
very kind and grateful to him. Somehow, when he heard her 
low and sweet laughter, and saw the frank kindness of her dark 
eyes, he abandoned the gloomy suspicions that had crossed his 
mind ; but he still considered that he had been injured, and that 
the injury was all the greater in that he had just been persuaded 
into making a fool of himself for Wenna Rosewarne’s sake. 

He said nothing to her then, of course ; and, as the evening 


wenna’s first triumph. 


73 


passed cheerfully enough in Mrs. Rosewarne’s parlor, he resolved 
he would postpone inquiry into this matter. He had never seen 
Wenna so pleased herself, and so obviously bent on pleasing oth- 
ers. She petted her mother, and said slyly sarcastic things of her 
father, until George Rosewarne roared with laughter ; she listened 
with respectful eyes and attentive ears when Mr. Roscorla pro- 
nounced an opinion on the affairs of the day ; and she dexterous- 
ly cut rolls of paper and dressed up her sister Mabyn to represent 
a lady of the time of Elizabeth, to the admiration of everybody. 
Mr. Roscorla had inwardly to confess that he had secured for 
himself a most charming and delightful wife, who would make 
a wonderful difference in those dull evenings up at Basset Cot- 
tage. 

He only half guessed the origin of Miss Wenna’s great and ob- 
vious satisfaction. It was really this — that she had that evening 
reaped the first welcome fruits of her new relations in finding Mr. 
Roscorla ready to go and perform acts of charity. But for her 
engagement, that would certainly not have happened; and this, 
she believed, was but the auspicious beginning. Of course Mr. 
Roscorla would have laughed if she had informed him of her be- 
lief that the regeneration of the whole little world of Eglosilyan 
— something like the Millennium, indeed — was to come about 
merely because an innkeeper’s daughter was about to be made a 
married woman. Wenna Rosewarne, however, did not formulate 
any such belief ; but she was none the less proud of the great re- 
sults that had already been secured by — by what ? By her sacri- 
fice of herself ? She did not pursue the subject so far. 

Her delight was infectious. Mr. Roscorla, as he walked home 
that night — under the throbbing starlight, with the sound of the 
Atlantic murmuring through the darkness — was, on the whole, 
rather pleased that he had been vexed on hearing of that letter 
from Harry Trelyon. He would continue to be vexed. He 
would endeavor to be jealous without measure; for how can 
jealousy exist if an anxious love is not also present ? and, in fact, 
should not a man who is really fond of a woman be quick to re- 
sent the approach of any one who seems to interfere with his 
right of property in her affections? By the time he reached 
Basset Cottage, Mr. Roscorla had very nearly persuaded him- 
self into the belief that he was really in love with Wenna Rose- 


warne. 


74 


THREE FEATHERS. 


CHAPTER IX. 

THE RING OF EVIL OMEN. 

One of Wenna’s many friends outside the village in which she 
lived was a strange misshapen creature who earned his living by 
carrying sand from one of the bays on the coast to the farmers 
on the uplands above. This he did by means of a troop of don- 
keys — small, rough, light - haired, and large -eyed animals — that 
struggled up the rude and steep path on the face of the cliff, with 
the bags on their backs that he had laboriously filled below. It 
was a sufficiently cheerless occupation for this unfortunate hunch- 
back, and not a very profitable one. The money he got from the 
farmers did not much more than cover the keep of the donkeys. 
He seldom spoke to any human being ; for who was going to de- 
scend that rough and narrow path down to the shore — where he 
and his donkeys appeared to be no bigger than mice — with the 
knowledge that there was no path around the precipitous coast, 
and that nothing would remain but the long climb up again ? 

Wenna Rosewarne had some pity for this solitary wretch, who 
toiled at his task with the melancholy Atlantic before him, and 
behind him a great and lonely wall of crumbling slate ; and, 
whenever she had time, she used to walk with her sister across 
from Eglosilyan by the high-lying downs until they reached this 
little indentation in the coast where a curve of yellow sand was 
visible far below. If this poor fellow and his donkeys were to 
be seen from the summit, the two girls had little fear of the fa- 
tigue of descending the path down the side of the steep cliff ; and 
the object of their visit used to be highly pleased and flattered 
by their coming to chat with him for a few minutes. He would 
hasten the filling of his bags so as to ascend again with them, 
and, in a strange tongue that even the two Cornish girls could 
not always understand, he would talk to them of the merits of his 
favorite donkeys, of their willingness and strength and docility. 
They never took him any tracts; they never uttered a word of 
condolence or sympathy. Their visit was merely of the nature 


THE RING OF EVIL OMEN. 


75 


of a friendly call ; but it was a mark of attention and kindliness 
that gave the man something pleasant to think of for days there- 
after. 

Now on one of these occasions Mr. Roscorla went with Wenna 
and her sister ; and although he did not at all see the use of go- 
ing down this precipitous cliff for the mere purpose of toiling up 
again, he was not going to confess that he dreaded the fatigue of 
it. Moreover, this was another mission of charity ; and, although 
he had not called again on Mr. Keam — although, in fact, he had 
inwardly vowed that the prayers of a thousand angels would not 
induce him again to visit Mr. Keam — he was anxious that Wenna 
should believe that he still remained her pupil. So, with a good 
grace, Ke went down the tortuous pathway to the desolate little 
bay where the sand-carrier was at work. He stood and looked at 
the sea while Wenna chatted with her acquaintance; he studied 
the rigging of the distant ships; he watched the choughs and 
daws flying about the face of the rocks ; he drew figures on the 
sand with the point of his cane, and wondered whether he would 
be back in good time for luncheon if this garrulous hunchback 
jabbered in his guttural way for another hour. Then he had the 
pleasure of climbing up the cliff again, with a'whole troop of don- 
keys going before him in Indian file up the narrow and zigzag 
path, and at last he reached the summit. His second effort in 
the way of charity had been accomplished. 

He proposed that the young ladies should sit down to rest for 
a few minutes, after the donkeys and their driver had departed ; 
and accordingly the three strangers chose a block of slate for a 
seat, with the warm grass for a footstool, and all around them the 
beauty of an August morning. The sea was ruffled into a dark 
blue where it neared the horizon ; but closer at hand it was pale 
and still. The sun was hot on the bleak pasture-land. There 
was a scent of fern and wild thyme in the air. 

“ By the way, Wenna,” said Mr. Roscorla, “ I wonder you 
have never asked me why I have not yet got you an engaged 
ling.” 

“Wenna does not want an engaged ring,” said Miss Mabyn, 
sharply. “ They are not worn now.” 

This audacious perversion of fact on the part of the self-willed 
young beauty was in reality a sort of cry of despair. If Mr. Ros- 
corla had not yet spoken of a ring to Wenna, Mabyn had ; and 


76 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Mabyn had besought her sister not to accept this symbol of 
hopeless captivity. 

“ Oh, Wenna !” she had said, “ if you take a ring from him, I 
shall look on you as carried away from us forever.” 

“ Nonsense, Mabyn,” the elder sister had said. “ The ring is 
of no importance ; it is the word you have spoken that is.” 

“ Oh no, it isn’t,” Mabyn said, earnestly. “ As long as you 
don’t wear a ring, Wenna, I still fancy I shall get you back from 
him ; and you may say what you like, but you are far too good 
for him.” 

“ Mabyn, you are a disobedient child,” the elder sister said, 
stopping the argument with a kiss, and not caring to raise a quarrel. 

Well, when Mr. Roscorla was suddenly confronted by this state- 
ment, he was startled ; but he inwardly resolved that, as soon as 
he and Wenna were married, he would soon bring Miss Mabyn’s 
interference in their affairs to an end. At present he merely said, 
mildly — 

“I was not aware that engaged rings were no longer worn. 
However, if that be so, it is no reason why we should discontinue 
a good old custom ; and I have put off getting you one, Wenna, 
because I knew I had to go to London soon. I find now I must 
go on Monday next; and so I want you to tell me what sort 
of stones you like best in a ring.” 

“ I am sure I don’t know,” Wenna said, humbly and dutifully. 
“ I am sure to like whatever you choose.” 

“ But what do you prefer yourself ?” he again said. 

Wenna hesitated, but Miss Mabyn did not. She was prepared 
for the crisis. She had foreseen it. 

“ Oh, Mr. Roscorla,” she said (and you would not have fancied 
there was any guile or malice in that young and pretty face, with 
its tender blue eyes and its proud and sweet mouth), “ don’t you 
know that Wenna likes emeralds?” 

Mr. Roscorla was very near telling the younger sister to mind 
her own business ; but he was afraid. He only said, in a stiff 
way, to his betrothed — 

“ Do you like emeralds ?” 

“ I think they are very pretty,” Wenna replied, meekly. “ I 
am sure I shall like any ring you choose.” 

“ Oh, very well,” said he, rather discontented that she would 
show no preference. “ I shall get you an emerald ring.” 


THE RING OF EVIL OMEN. 


77 


When she heard this decision, the heart of Mabyn Rosewarne 
was filled with an unholy joy. This was the rhyme that was 
running through her head: 

“Oh, green’s forsaken, 

And yellow’s forsworn, 

And blue’s the sweetest 
Color that’s worn!” 

Wenna was saved to her now. How could any two people marry 
who had engaged themselves with an emerald ring ? There was a 
great deal of what might be called natural religion in this young 
lady, to distinguish it from that which she had been taught on 
Sunday forenoons and at her mother’s knee : a belief in occult in- 
fluences ruling the earth, unnamable, undefinable, but ever present 
and ever active. If fairly challenged, she might have scrupled to 
say that she believed in Brownies, or the Small People, or in any 
one of the thousand superstitions of the Cornish peasantry. But 
she faithfully observed these superstitions. If her less heedful 
sister put a cut loaf upside down on the plate, Mabyn would in- 
stantly right it, and say “ Oh, Wenna !” as if her sister had forgot- 
ten that that simple act meant that some ship was in sore distress. 
If Wenna laughed at any of these fancies, Mabyn said nothing ; 
but all the same she was convinced in her own mind that things 
happened to people in a strange fashion, and in accordance with 
omens that might have been remarked. She knew that if Mr. 
Roscorla gave Wenna a ring of emeralds, Mr. Roscorla would 
never marry her. 

One thing puzzled her, however. Which of the two was to be 
the forsaken ? Was it Wenna or Mr. Roscorla who would break 
this engagement that the younger sister had set her heart against ? 
Well, she would not have been sorry if Mr. Roscorla were the 
guilty party, except in so far as some humiliation might thereby 
fall on Wenna. But the more she thought of the matter, the 
more she was convinced that Mr. Roscorla was aware he had the 
best of the bargain, and was not at all likely to seek to escape 
from it. It was he who must be forsaken ; and she had no pity 
for him. What right had an old man to come and try to carry 
off her sister — her sister whose lover ought to be “ young and 
beautiful, like a prince ?” Mabyn kept repeating the lines to her- 
self all the time they walked homewards; and if Wenna had 


78 


THREE FEATHERS. 


asked her a question just then, the chances are she would have 
answered — 

“ Oh, green’s forsaken, 

And yellow’s forsworn, 

And blue’s the sweetest 
Color that’s worn!” 

But Wenna was otherwise engaged during this homeward walk. 
Mr. Roscorla, having resolved to go to London, thought he might 
as well have that little matter about Harry Trelyon cleared up 
before he went. He had got all the good out of it possible, by 
nursing whatever unquiet suspicions it provoked, and trying to 
persuade himself that as he was in some measure jealous he must 
in some measure be in love. But he had not the courage to take 
these suspicions with him to London ; they were not pleasant 
travelling companions. 

“ I wonder,” he said, in rather a nervous way, “ whether I shall 
see young Trelyon in London.” 

Wenna was not at all disturbed by the mention of the name. 
She only said, with a smile — 

“ It is a big place to seek any one in.” 

“ You know he is there ?” 

“ Oh yes,” she answered directly. 

“ It is odd that you should know, for he has not told any one 
up at Trelyon Hall ; in fact, no one appears to have heard any- 
thing about him but yourself.” 

“ How very silly of him,” Wenna said, “ to be so thoughtless J 
Doesn’t his mother know? Do you think she would like to 
know ?” 

“Well,” said he, with marked coldness, “doubtless she would 
be surprised at his having communicated with you in preference 
to any one else.” 

Wenna’s soft dark eyes were turned up to his face with a sud- 
den look of astonishment. He had never spoken to her in this 
way before. She could not understand. And then she said, very 
quickly, and with a sudden flush of color to the pale face — 

“ Oh ! but this letter is only about the dog. I will show it to 
you. I have it in my pocket.” 

She took out the letter and handed it to him ; and he might 
have seen that her hand trembled. She was very much perturbed 
— she scarcely knew why. But there was something in his man- 


THE RING OF EVIL OMEN. 


19 


ner that had almost frightened her — something distant and harsh 
and suspicious ; and surely she had done no wrong ? 

He smoothed out the crumpled sheet of paper, and a contempt- 
uous smile passed over his face. 

“ He writes with more care to you than to other people ; but 
I can’t say much for his handwriting at the best.” 

Wenna colored, and said nothing ; but Mabyn remarked, rather 
warmly — 

“ I don’t think a man need try to write like a dancing-master, 
if he means what he says, and can tell you that frankly.” 

Mr. Roscorla did not heed this remarkably incoherent speech, 
for he was reading the letter, which ran as follows : 

“Nolan’s Hotel, London, July 30, 18 — . 
“Dear Miss Rosewarne, — 

“ I know you would like to have Rock, and he’s no good at all 
as a retreaver, and I’ve written to Luke to take him down to you 
at the Inn, and I shall be very pleased if you will accept him as 
a present from me. Either Luke or your father will tell you how 
to feed him ; and I am sure you will be kind to him, and not 
chain him up, and give him plenty of exersise. I hope you are 
all well at the Inn, and that Mabyn’s pigeons have not flowne 
away. Tell her not to forget the piece of looking-glass. 

“ Yours faithfully, 

“Harry Trelyon. 

“ P.S. — I met Joshua Keam quite by accident yesterday. He 
asked for you most kindly. His leg has been ampitated at last.” 

Here was nothing at which a jealous lover might grumble. 
Mr. Roscorla handed back the letter with scarcely a word, leaving 
Wenna to puzzle over what had happened to make him look at 
her in that strange way. As for Miss Mabyn, that young lady 
would say nothing to hurt her sister’s feelings ; but she said many 
a bitter thing to herself about the character of a gentleman who 
would read another gentleman’s letter, particularly when the for- 
mer was an elderly gentleman and the latter a young one, and 
most of all when the young gentleman had been writing to a girl, 
and that girl her sister Wenna. “ But green’s forsaken,” Mabyn 
said to herself, as if there was great comfort in that reflection — 
“ green’s forsaken, and yellow’s forsworn !” 


80 


THREE FEATHERS. 


And so Mr. Roscorla was going away from Eglosilyan for a 
time, and Wenna would be left alone. 

Certainly, if this brief separation promised to afflict her griev- 
ously, it had not that effect in the mean time ; for once she had 
gone over the matter in her mind, and sketched out, as was her 
wont, all that she ought to do, she quickly recovered her cheer- 
fulness, and was in very good spirits indeed when the small party 
reached Eglosilyan. And here was a small and sunburnt boy — 
Master Pentecost Luke, in fact — waiting for her right in the mid- 
dle of the road in front of the inn, whom she caught up, and 
kissed and scolded all at once. 

“ Whatever are you doing down here, sir, all by yourself ?” 

“ I have turn to see you,” the small boy said, in no way fright- 
ened or abashed by her rough usage of him. 

“ And so you want Mr. Trelyon to ride over you again, do 
you? Haven’t I told you never to come here without some of 
your brothers and sisters? Well, say ‘How do you do?’ to the 
gentleman. Don’t you know Penny Luke, Mr. Roscorla ?” 

“ I believe I have that honor,” said Mr. Roscorla, with a smile, 
but not at all pleased to be kept in the middle of the road chat- 
tering to a cottager’s child. 

Miss Wenna presently showed that she was a well-built and 
active young woman by swinging Master Penny up and perching 
him on her shoulder, in which fashion she carried him into the 
inn. 

“ Penny is a great friend of mine,” she said to Mr. Roscorla, 
who would not himself have attempted that feat of skill and dex- 
terity, “ and you must make his acquaintance. He is a very good 
boy on the whole, but sometimes he goes near to breaking my 
heart. I shall have to give him up, and take another sweetheart, 
if he doesn’t mind. He will eat with his fingers, and he will run 
out and get among horses’ feet ; and as for the way he conducts 
himself when his face is being washed, and he is being made like 
a gentleman, I never saw the like of it.” 

Master Penny did not seem much ashamed ; he was, in fact, 
too proud of his position. They marched him into the inn, where, 
doubtless, he received all the petting and other good things he 
had been shrewdly expecting. 

Mabyn said her prayers that night in the ordinary and formal 
fashion. She prayed for her father and mother and for her sister 


THE SNARES OF LONDON. 


81 


Wenna, as she had been taught ; and she added in the Princess 
of Wales on her own account, because she liked her pretty face. 
She also prayed that she herself should be made humble and good, 
desirous of serving her fellow-creatures, and charitable to ever} 
one. All this was done in due order. 

But in point of fact her heart was at that moment far from 
being meek and charitable ; it was, on the contrary, filled with 
bitterness and indignation. And the real cry of her soul, urn 
known to herself, went out to all the vague, imaginative powers 
of magic and witchcraft — to the mysterious influences of the stars 
and the strange controllers of chance ; and it was to these that she 
looked for the rescue of her sister from the doom that threatened 
her, and to them that she appealed, with a yearning far too great 
for words or even for tears. When she was but a child play- 
ing among the rocks, she had stumbled on the dead body of a 
sailor that had been washed ashore ; and she had run, white and 
trembling, into the village with the news. Afterwards she was 
told that on the hand of the corpse a ring with a green stone in 
it was found ; and then she heard for the first time the rhyme 
that had never since left her memory. She certainly did not wish 
that Mr. Roscorla should die ; but she as certainly wished that 
her sister Wenna should he saved from becoming his wife; and 
she reflected with a fierce satisfaction that it was she who had 
driven him to promise that Wenna’ s engaged ring should be com- 
posed of those fatal stones. 


CHAPTER X. 

THE SNARES OF LONDON. 

If Mr. Harry Trelyon was bent on going to the devil, to use 
his own phrase, he went a quiet way about it. On the warm and 
close evening of a summer day he arrived in London. A red 
smoke hung about the western sky, over the tops of the houses ; 
the thoroughfares that were in shadow were filled with a pale blue 
mist ; the air was still and stifling — very different from that which 
came in at night from the sea to the gardens and cottages of 
Eglosilyan. He drove down through these hot and crowded 
6 


82 


THREE FEATHERS. 


streets to a hotel near Charing Cross — an old-fashioned little 
place much frequented by west-country people, who sometimes 
took rooms there, and brought their daughters up for a month or 
so of the season, at which time no other guests could obtain ad- 
mission. At ordinary times, however, the place was chiefly ten- 
anted by a few country gentlemen and a clergyman or two, who 
had small sitting-rooms, in which they dined with their families, 
and in which they drank a glass of something hot before going 
to bed at night after coming home from the theatre. 

Harry Trelyon was familiar with the place and its ways, and 
with the traditions of his father and grandfather, who invariably 
stopped there ; and, following in their footsteps, he, too, obtained 
a private sitting-room as well as a bedroom, and then he ordered 
dinner. It was not much in the way of a banquet for a young 
gentleman who was determined to go to the devil. It consisted 
of a beefsteak and a pint of claret ; and it was served in a fairly- 
sized, old-fashioned, dimly-lit room, the furniture of which was 
of that very substantial sort that is warranted to look dingy for a 
couple of generations. He was attended by a very old and shrunk- 
en waiter, whose white whiskers were more respectable than his 
shabby clothes. On his first entrance into the room he had looked 
at the young man who, in a rough shooting - suit, was stretched 
out at full length in an easy-chair ; and, in answering a question, 
he had addressed him by his name. 

“ How do you know my name ?” the lad said. 

“ Ah, sir, there’s no mistaking one o’ your family. I can re- 
member your grandfather, and your uncle, and your father. Did 
you never hear, sir, that I was a witness for your father at the 
police-court ?” 

“What row was that?” the young gentleman asked, showing 
his familiarity with the fact that the annals of the Trelyons were 
of a rather stormy character. 

“ Why, sir,” the old man said, warming up into a little excite- 
ment, and unconsciously falling into something like the provincial 
accent of his youth, “ I believe you was in the hotel at the time — 
yes, as well as I can recollect, you was a little chap then, and had 
gone to bed. Well, maybe I’m wrong — ’tis a good few years 
agone. But, anyhow, your father and that good lady your moth- 
er, they were a-coming home from a theatre ; and there was two 
or three young fellers on the pavement — I was the porter then, 


THE SNARES OF LONDON. 


83 


sir — and I think that one of ’em called out to the other, ‘Well, 
here’s a country beauty,’ or some such cheek. But, anyhow, your 
father, sir, he knocks him aside, and takes his good lady into the 
door of the hotel, and then they was for follerin’ of him, but as 
soon as she was inside, then he turns, and there was a word or 
two, and one of ’em he ups with a stick, and says I to myself, ‘ I 
can’t stand aby and see three or four set on one gentleman ;’ but 
lor ! sir — well, you wouldn’t believe it — but before I could make a 
step, there was two of ’em lyin’ on the pavement — clean, straight 
down, sir, with their hats running into the street — and the other 
two making off as fast as they could bolt across the square. Oh, 
lor, sir, wa’n’t it beautiful ! And the way as your father turned 
and says he to me, with a laugh like, ‘ Tomlins,’ says he, ‘ you can 
give them gentlemen a glass of brandy-and-water when they ask 
for it !’ And the magistrate, sir, he was a real sensible gentleman, 
and he give it hot to these fellers, for they began the row, sir, and 
no mistake; but to see the way they went down — lor, sir, you 
can’t believe it !” 

“ Oh, can’t I, though ?” Master Harry said, with a roar of laugh- 
ter. “ Don’t you make any mistake. I say, what did you say your 
name was ?” 

“ My name, sir,” said the old man, suddenly sinking from the 
epic heights which had lent a sort of inspiration to his face, down 
to the ordinary chastened and respectful bearing of a waiter — “ my 
name, sir, in the hotel is Charles ; but your good father, sir, he 
knowed my name, which is Tomlins, sir.” 

“ Well, look here, Tomlins,” the boy said, “ you go and ask the 
landlady to give you a holiday this evening, and come in and 
smoke a pipe with me.” 

“ Oh, lor, sir,” the old waiter said, aghast at the very notion, 
“ I couldn’t do that. It would be as much as my place is worth.” 

“ Oh, never mind your place — I’ll get you a better one,” the 
lad said, with a sort of royal carelessness. “ I’ll get you a place 
down in Cornwall. You come and help our butler — he’s a horrid 
old fool. When I come of age, I mean to build a house there for 
myself. No, I think I shall have rooms in London— anyhow, I’ll 
give you £100 a year.” 

The old man shook his head. 

“ No, sir, thank you very much, sir. I’m too old to begin 
again. You want a younger man than me. Beg your pardon, 
sir, but they’re ringing for me.” 


84 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Poor old beggar !” said Trelyon to himself, when the waiter 
had left the room ; “ I wonder if he’s married, and if he’s got any 
kids that one could help. And so he was a witness for my father. 
Well, he sha’n’t suffer for that.” 

Master Harry finished his steak and his pint of claret; then 
he lit a cigar, got into a hansom, and drove up to a street in 
Seven Dials, where he at length discovered a certain shop. The 
shutters were on the windows, and a stout old lady was taking in 
from the door the last of the rabbit-hutches and cages that had 
been out there during the evening. 

“You’re Mrs. Finch, ain’t you?” Trelyon said, making his way 
into the shop, which was lighted inside by a solitary jet of gas. 

“ Yes, sir,” said the woman, looking up at the tall young man 
in the rough shooting-costume and brown wideawake. 

“ Well, my name’s Trelyon, and I’m come to blow you up. A 
pretty mess you made of that flamingo for me — why, a bishop 
in lawn sleeves couldn’t have stuffed it worse. Where did you 
ever see a bird with a neck like a corkscrew ? — and when I 
opened it to put it straight, then I found out all your tricks, 
Mrs. Finch.” 

“ But you know, sir,” said Mrs. Finch, smiling blandly, “ it ain’t 
our line of business.” 

“ Well, I’d advise you to get somebody else next time to stuff 
for you. However, I bear you no malice. You show me what 
you’ve got in the way of live stock; and if you take fifty per 
cent, off your usual prices, I’ll let the corkscrew flamingo go.” 

A minute thereafter he was being conducted down some very 
dark steps into a subterranean cellar by this stout old woman, 
who carried a candle in front of him. Their entrance into this 
large, dismal, and strangely filled place — at the farther end of 
which was a grating looking up to the street — awoke a profound 
commotion among the animals around. Cocks began to crow, 
suddenly awakened birds fluttered up and down their cages, par- 
oquets and cockatoos opened their sleepy eyes and mechanically 
repeated “ Pretty Polly !” and “ Good-night ! good-night !” Even 
the rabbits stared solemnly from behind the bars. 

“ What have you got there ?” said Trelyon to his guide, point- 
ing to a railway milk-can which stood in the corner, nearly filled 
with earth. 

“ A mole, sir,” said Mrs. Finch ; “ it is a plaything of one of 


THE SNARES OF LONDON. 


85 


my boys ; but I could let you have it, sir, if you have any curios- 
ity that way.” 

“ Why, bless you, I’ve had ’em by the dozen. I don’t know 
how many I’ve let escape into our kitchen-garden, all with a string 
tied to their leg. Don’t they go down a cracker if you let ’em 
loose for a second ! I should say that fellow in there was rather 
disgusted when he came to the tin, don’t you think? Got any 
cardinals, Mrs. Finch ? I lost every one o’ them you sent me.” 

“ Dear, dear me !” said Mrs. Finch, showing very great concern. 

“Ay, you may well say that. Every one o’ them, and about 
forty more birds besides, before I found out what it was — an in- 
fernal weasel that had made its way into the rockwork of my 
aviary, and there he lived at his ease for nearly a fortnight, just 
killing whatever he chose, and the beggar seemed to have a fancy 
for the prettiest birds. I had to pull the whole place to pieces 
before I found him out — and there he was, grinning and snarling 
in a corner. By Jove ! didn’t I hit him a whack with a stick I 
had ! There were no more birds for him in this world.” 

At this moment Mrs. Finch’s husband and two of her small 
boys came down-stairs ; and very soon the conversation on natu- 
ral history became general, each one anxious to give his experi- 
ences of the wonderful things he had observed, even if his travels 
had carried him no farther than Battersea Reaches. Master Harry 
forgot that he had left a hansom at the door. There was scarce- 
ly an animal in this dungeon that he did not examine ; and when 
he suddenly discovered that it was considerably past eleven o’clock, 
he found himself the owner of about as much property as would 
have filled two cabs. He went up-stairs, dismissed the hansom, 
and got a four-wheeler, in which he deposited the various cages, 
fish-globes, and what not, that he had bought ; and then he drove 
off to his hotel, getting all the waiters in the place to assist in 
carrying these various objects tenderly up -stairs. Thus ended 
his first evening in London, the chief result of which was that his 
sitting-room had assumed the appearance of a bird-catcher’s win- 
dow. 

Next forenoon he walked up into Hyde Park to have a look at 
the horses. Among the riders he recognized several people whom 
he knew — some of them, indeed, related to him — but he was care- 
ful to take no notice of them. 

“Those women,” he said to himself, in a sensible manner, 


86 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ don’t want to recognize a fellow who has a wideawake on. 
They would do it, though, if you presented yourself ; and they 
would ask you to lunch or to tea in the afternoon. Then you’d 
find yourself among a lot of girls, all with their young men about 
them, and the young men would wonder how the dickens you 
came to be in a shooting-coat in London.” 

So he pursued his way, and at length found himself in the Zo- 
ological Gardens. He sat for nearly an hour staring at the lions 
and tigers, imagining all sorts of incidents as he looked at their 
sleepy and cruel eyes, and wondering what one splendid fellow 
would do if he went down and stroked his nose. He had the 
satisfaction also of seeing the animals fed; and he went around 
with the man, and had an interesting conversation with him. 

Then he went and had some luncheon himself, and got into 
talk with the amiable young lady who waited on him, who ex- 
pressed in generous terms, with a few superfluous A’s, the pleasure 
which she derived from going to the theatre. 

“ Oh, do you like it ?” he said, carelessly ; “I never go. I al- 
ways fall asleep — country habits, you know. But you get some- 
body to go with you, and I’ll send you a couple of places for to- 
morrow night, if you like.” 

“ I think I could get some one to take me,” said the young 
lady, with a pretty little simper. 

“ Yes, I should think you could,” he said, bluntly. “ What’s 
your name ?” 

He wrote it down on one of his own cards, and went his way. 

The next place of entertainment he visited was an American 
bowling-alley, in the neighborhood of Co vent Garden, a highly 
respectable place to which gentlemen resorted for the purpose of 
playing a refined sort of skittles. Master Harry merely wanted 
to practise, and also to stretch his arms and legs. He had just 
begun, however, to send the big balls crashing into the pins at 
the farther end of the alley, when the only visitor in the place — 
a sailor-looking person with a red face, who was smoking a very 
elaborate meerschaum — offered to play a game with him. 

“ All right,” said Trelyon. 

“ For a couple of bob ?” says the stranger. 

“ Do you mean two shillings ?” asks the young man, calmly 
looking down upon the person with the red face ; for, of course, 
Harry Trelyon never used slang. 


THE SNARES OF LONDON. 


81 

“ Yes,” said the other, with much indifference, as he selected 
one of the balls. 

They played a game, and Trelyon won easily. They played an- 
other, and again he won. They played a third, and still he won. 

“ Oh, let’s play for a sovereign,” said the stranger. 

“No,” said the young man ; “ I’m going.” 

Well, this did not at all seem to suit his opponent, who be- 
came rather demonstrative in manner. He did not like gentlemen 
coming in to win money, without giving a fellow a chance of 
winning it back. At this Trelyon turned suddenly — he had not 
yet put on his coat — and said — 

“ What do you mean ? I won’t play any more, but I’ll knock 
the head off you in two minutes, if that’ll suit you better.” 

The gentleman with the red face paused for a minute. He was 
evidently in a nasty temper. He looked at the build of the young 
man ; he also observed that one of the assistants was drawing near ; 
and still he said nothing. Whereupon Master Harry quietly put 
on his coat, lit a cigar, gave a friendly nod to his late opponent, 
and walked out. 

In this wise he lounged about London for a day or two, look- 
ing in at Tattersall’s, examining new breech-loaders in shops in St. 
James’s Street, purchasing ingenuities in fishing-tackle, and very 
frequently feeding the ducks in the Serpentine with bread bought 
of the boys standing around. It was not a very lively sort of ex- 
istence, he found. Colonel Ransome had left for Scotland on the 
very day before his arrival in London, so that peaceable and or- 
derly means of getting that dowry for Wenna Rosewarne were 
not at hand; and Master Harry, though he was enough of a devil- 
may-care, had no intention of going to the Jews for the money 
until he was driven to it. Colonel Ransome, moreover, had left 
his constituents unrepresented in the House during the last few 
days of the session, and had quietly gone off to Scotland for the 
12th, so that it was impossible to say when he might return. 
Meanwhile young Trelyon made the acquaintance of whatever 
birds, beasts, and fishes he could find in London, until he got a 
little tired. 

All of a sudden it struck him one evening, as a happy relief, 
that he would sit down and write to Wenna Rosewarne. He or- 
dered in pens, ink, and paper with much solemnity ; and then he 
said to the old waiter, “ Tomlins, how do you spell ‘ retriever’ ?” 


88 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ I ain’t quite sure, sir,” Tomlins said. 

Whereupon Master Harry had to begin and compose that letter 
which we have already read, but which cost him an amount of 
labor not visible in the lines as they stand. He threw away a 
dozen sheets of paper before he even mastered a beginning ; and 
it was certainly an hour and a half before he had produced a 
copy which more or less satisfied him. Mr. Roscorla noticed at 
once the pains he had taken with the writing. 

Then in due course came the answer ; and Master Harry paused 
with much satisfaction to look at the pretty handwriting on the 
envelope — he did not often get letters from young ladies. The 
contents, however, did not please him quite so much. They were 
these : 

“Eglosilyan, August 3, 18 — . 

“ Dear Mr. Trelyon, — 

“ Thank you very much for giving me your beautiful dog. I 
shall take great care of him, and if you want him for the shoot- 
ing you can have him at any time. But I am surprised you 
should write to me when I hear that you have not written to 
your own relatives, and that they do not even know where you 
are. I cannot understand how you should be so careless of the 
feelings of others. I am sure it is thoughtlessness rather than 
selfishness on your part; but I hope you will write to them at 
once. Mr. Barnes has just called, and I have given him your ad- 
dress. “ I am, yours sincerely, 

“Wenna Rosewarne.” 

Harry Trelyon was at once vexed and pleased by this letter ; 
probably more vexed than pleased, for he threw it impatiently on 
the table, and said to himself, “ She’s always reading lectures to 
people, and always making a fuss of nothing. She was meant for 
a Puritan — she should have gone out in the Mayfly to America.” 

Mayfly for Mayflower was perhaps a natural mistake for a 
trout-fisher to make ; but Master Harry was unaware of it. He 
passed on to more gloomy fancies. What was this parson about 
that he should come inquiring for his address of Wenna Rose- 
warne ? How had he found out that she knew it ? 

“ Come,” said he to himself, “ this won’t do. I must go down 
to Cornwall. And if there are any spies pushing their noses into 
my affairs, let ’em look out for a tweak, that’s all !” 


THE TWO PICTURES. 


89 


CHAPTER XL 

THE TWO PICTURES. 

“ Oh, Mabyn,” Wenna called out in despair, “ you will have all 
my hair down. Have you gone quite mad ?” 

“ Yes, quite,” the younger sister said, with a wild enjoyment 
in her eyes. “ Oh, Wenna, he’s gone, he’s gone, and he’s gone 
to get you an emerald ring ! Don’t you know, you poor silly 
thing, that green’s forsaken, and yellow’s forsworn ?” 

“ Well, Mabyn,” the elder sister said, laughing in spite of her- 
self, “ you are the wickedest girl I ever heard of, and I wonder I 
am not angry with you.” 

At this moment they were returning to Eglosilyan along the 
Launceston highway ; and far away behind them, on the road 
that crosses the bleak and lofty moors, the dog-cart was faintly 
visible which was taking Mr. Roscorla on his first stage towards 
London. He had driven the two sisters out for about a mile, 
and now they were going back ; and Mabyn was almost beside 
herself with delight that he was gone, and that her sister had 
shown no great grief at his going. Their parting, indeed, had 
been of a most unromantic kind, much to the relief of both. Mr. 
Roscorla was rather late ; and Wenna devoted her last words to 
impressing on him that he must have something to eat in Laun- 
ceston before going down to the Plymouth train. Then she bade 
him make haste, and said good-bye with a kindly smile on her 
face, and away he went. 

“ Mabyn,” she said, in a mysterious voice which stopped her 
sister’s pulling her about, “ do you think — now, do you really 
think — Mr. Pavy would lend us his boat ?” 

“ Oh ? Wenna,” the other one cried, “ do let us have the boat 
out ! Do you know that the whole air seems clear and light since 
Mr. Roscorla has gone ? I should like to thank everybody in the 
world for being so kind as to take him away. Wenna, Pll run 
you to the gate of Basset Cottage for half a crown !” 


90 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“You!” said the elder sister, with great contempt. “I’ll run 
you to the mill for a hundred thousand pounds.” 

“ No, Wenna — Basset Cottage, if you like,” said Mabyn, sturdi- 
ly ; and with that both the girls set out, with their heads down, 
in a business-like fashion that showed there was very little the 
matter with their lungs. 

“ Oh, Mabyn !” said Wenna, suddenly ; and then both of them 
found that they had very nearly run into the arms of a clergy- 
man — an elderly, white-haired, amiable-looking gentleman, who 
was rather slowly toiling up the hill. Mabyn looked frightened, 
and then laughed ; but Wenna, with her cheeks very red, went 
forward and shook hands with him. 

“ Well, girls,” he said, “ you needn’t stop running for me — a 
capital exercise, a capital exercise, that young ladies in towns 
don’t have much of. And as for you, Wenna, you’ve plenty of 
work of a sedentary nature, you know — nothing better than a 
good race, nothing better.” 

“ And how is your little granddaughter this morning, Mr. Tre- 
whella?” said Wenna, gently, with her cheeks still flushing with 
the running. 

“ Ah ! well, poor child, she is much about the same ; but the 
pincushion is nearly finished now, and your name is on it in sil- 
ver beads, and you are to come and have tea with her as soon as 
you can, that she may give it to you. Dear, dear ! she was ask- 
ing her mother yesterday whether the beads would carry all her 
love to you, for she did not think it possible herself. Well, good- 
bye, girls; don’t you be ashamed of having a race together.” 
With which the kindly-faced clergyman resumed his task of as- 
cending the hill, and the two girls, abandoning their racing, walked 
quickly down to the harbor, to see if they could persuade the 
silent and surly Mr. Pavy to let them have his boat. 

Meanwhile Mr. Roscorla drove along the silent highway in 
George Rosewarne’s dog-cart, and in due time he reached Laun- 
ceston, and took the train for Plymouth. He stayed in Plymouth 
that night, having some business to do there; and next morning 
he found himself in the Flying Dutchman, tearing along the 
iron rails towards London. 

Now it was a fixed habit of Mr. Roscorla to try to get as near 
as possible to a clear and definite understanding of his relations 
with the people and things around him. He did not wish to 


THE TWO PICTURES. 


91 


have anything left vague and nebulous, even as regarded a mere 
sentiment ; and as this was the first time he had got clear away 
from Eglosilyan and the life there since the beginning of his en- 
gagement, he calmly set about defining the position in which he 
stood with regard to Wenna Rosewarne. 

The chief matter for discontent that he had was the probable 
wonder of the world over the fact that he meant to marry an inn- 
keeper’s daughter. All the world could not know the sufficient 
reasons he had advanced to himself for that step ; nor could they 
know of the very gradual way in which he had approached it. 
Every one would consider it as an abrupt and ludicrous act of 
folly ; his very kindest friends would call it an odd freak of ro- 
mance. Now Mr. Roscorla felt that at his time of life to be ac- 
cused of romance was to be accused of silliness ; and he resolved 
that, whenever he had a chance, he would let people know that 
his choice of Wenna Rosewarne was dictated by the most simple 
and commonplace arguments of prudence, such as would govern 
the conduct of any sane man. 

He resolved, too, that he would clearly impress on Harry Tre- 
lyon — whom he expected to see at Nolan’s — that this project of 
marriage with Miss Rosewarne was precisely what a man of the 
world placed in his position would entertain. He did not wholly 
like Master Harry. There was an ostentatious air of youth about 
the young man. There was a bluntness in his speech, too, that 
transgressed the limits of courtesy. Nor did he quite admire the 
off-handed fashion in which Harry Trelyon talked to the Rose- 
warnes, and more especially to the girls; he wished Miss Wenna 
Rosewarne, at least, to be treated with a little more formality and 
respect. At the same time he would endeavor to remain good 
friends with this ill-mannered boy, for reasons to be made ap- 
parent. 

When he arrived at Nolan’s Hotel he took a bedroom there, 
and then sent in a card to Harry Trelyon. He found that young 
gentleman up on a chair, trying to catch a Virginian nightingale 
that had escaped from one of the cages ; and he nearly stumbled 
over a tame hedgehog that ran pattering over the carpet, because 
his attention was drawn to a couple of very long-eared rabbits 
sitting in an easy-chair. Master Harry paid no attention to him 
until the bird was caught ; then he came down, shook hands with 
him carelessly, and said — 


92 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ How odd you should stumble in here ! Or did Wenna Rose- 
warne tell you I was at Nolan’s ?” 

“ Yes, Miss Rosewarne did,” said Mr. Roscorla. “ You have 
quite a menagerie here. Do you dine here or down-stairs ?” 

“ Oh ! here, of course.” 

“ I thought you might come and dine with me this evening at 
my club. Five minutes’ walk from here, you know. Will you !” 

“Yes, I will, if you don’t mind this elegant costume.” 

Mr. Roscorla was precisely the person to mind the dress of a 
man whom he was taking into his club ; but he was very well 
aware that, whatever dress young Trelyon wore, no one could 
mistake him for anything else than a gentleman. He was not at 
all averse to be seen with Master Harry in this rough costume ; 
he merely suggested, with a smile, that a few feathers and bits of 
thread might be removed ; and then, in the quiet summer even- 
ing, they went outside and walked westward. 

“ Now this is the time,” Mr. Roscorla said, “ when Pall Mall 
looks interesting to me. There is a sort of quiet and strong ex- 
citement about it. All that smoke there over the club chimneys 
tells of the cooking going forward ; and you will find old boys 
having a sly look in at the dining-room to see that their tables are 
all right ; and then friends come in, and smooth out their white 
ties, and have a drop of sherry and Angostura bitters while they 
wait. All this district is full of a silent satisfaction and hope just 
now. But I can’t get you a good dinner, Trelyon ; you’ll have to 
take your chance, you know. I have got out of the ways of the 
club now ; I don’t know what they can do.” 

“ Well, I’m not nasty partickler,” Trelyon said; which was true. 
“ But what has brought you up to London ?” 

“ Well, I’ll tell you. It’s rather an awkward business one way. 
I have got a share in some sugar and coffee plantations in Jamaica 
— I think you know that — and you are aware that the emancipa- 
tion of the niggers simply cut the throat of the estates there. 
The beggars won’t work; and lots of the plantations have been 
going down and down, or rather back and back into the original 
wilderness. Well, my partners here see no way out of it but one 
— to import labor, have the plantations thoroughly overhauled and 
set in good working order. But that wants money. They have 
got money — I haven’t ; and so, to tell you the truth, I am at my 
wit’s end as how to raise a few thousands to join them in the un- 
dertaking.” 


THE TWO PICTURES. 


93 


This piece of intelligence rather startled Harry Trelyon. He 
instantly recalled the project which had brought himself to Lon- 
don, and asked himself whether he was prepared to give a sum of 
£5000 to Wenna Rosewarne, merely that it should be transferred 
by her to her husband, who would forthwith embark in specula- 
tion with it. Well, he was not prepared to do that off-hand. 

They went into the club, which was in St. James’s Street, and 
Mr. Roscorla ordered a quiet little dinner, the menu of which was 
constructed with a neatness and skill altogether thrown away on 
his guest. In due time Master Harry sat down at the small table, 
and accepted with much indifference the delicacies which his com- 
panion had prepared for him. But all the same he enjoyed his 
dinner — particularly a draught of ale he had with his cheese ; af- 
ter which the two strangers went up to a quiet corner in the smok- 
ing-room, lay down in a couple of big easy -chairs, and lit their 
cigars. During dinner their talk had mostly been about shooting, 
varied with anecdotes which Mr. Roscorla told of men about town. 

Now, however, Mr. Roscorla became more communicative about 
his own affairs ; and it seemed to Trelyon that these were rather 
in a bad way. And it also occurred to him that there was per- 
haps a little meanness in his readiness to give £5000 direct to 
Wenna Rosewarne, and in his disinclination to lend the same sum 
to her future husband, whose interests, of course, would be hers. 

“ Look here, Roscorla,” he said. “ Honor bright, do you think 
you can make anything out of this scheme ; or is the place like 
one of those beastly old mines in which you throw good money 
after bad ?” 

Roscorla answered, honestly enough — but with perhaps a trifle 
unnecessary emphasis, when he saw that the young man was in- 
clined to accept the hint — that he believed the project to be a 
sound one ; that his partners were putting far more money into it 
than he would ; that the merchants who were his agents in Lon- 
don knew the property and approved of the scheme ; and that, if 
he could raise the money, he would himself go out, in a few 
months’ time, to see the thing properly started. 

He did not press the matter further than that for the present ; 
and so their talk drifted away into other channels, until it found 
its way back to Eglosilyan, to the Rosewarnes, and to Wenna. 
That is to say, Mr. Roscorla spoke of Wenna; Trelyon was gen- 
erally silent on that one point. 


94 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“You must not imagine,” Roscorla said, with a smile, “ that I 
took this step without much deliberation.” 

“ So did she, I suppose,” Trelyon said, rather coldly. 

“ Well, yes. Doubtless. But I dare say many people will think 
it rather strange that I should marry an innkeeper’s daughter — 
they will think I have been struck with a sudden fit of idiotic 
romance.” 

“ Oh no, I don’t think so,” the lad said, with nothing visible in 
his face to tell whether he were guilty of a mere blunder or of in- 
tentional impertinence. “Many elderly gentlemen marry their 
housekeepers, and in most cases wisely, as far as I have seen.” 

“ Oh ! but that is another thing,” Roscorla said, with his face 
flushing slightly, and inclined to be ill-tempered. “ There is a 
great difference: I am not old enough to want a nurse yet. I 
have chosen Miss Rosewarne because she is possessed of certain 
qualities calculated to make her an agreeable companion for a man 
like myself. I have done it quite deliberately and with my eyes 
open. I am not blinded by the vanity that makes a boy insist on 
having a particular girl become his wife because she has a pretty 
face and he wants to show her to his friends.” 

“And yet there is not much the matter with Wenna Rose- 
warne’s face,” said Trelyon, with the least suggestion of sarcasm. 

“ Oh ! as for that,” Roscorla said, “ that does not concern a 
man who looks at life from my point of view. Certainly, there 
are plainer faces than Miss Rosewarne’s. She has good eyes and 
teeth ; and, besides that, she has a good figure, you know.” 

Both these men, as they lay idling in the smoking-room, were 
now thinking of Wenna Rosewarne, and indolently and inadvert- 
ently forming some picture of her in their minds. Of the two, 
that of Mr. Roscorla was by far the more accurate. He could 
have described every feature of her face and every article of her 
dress, as she appeared to him on bidding him good-bye the day 
before on the Launceston highway. The dress was a soft light- 
brown, touched here and there with deep and rich cherry color. 
Her face was turned sideways to him, and looking up ; the lips 
partly open with a friendly smile, and showing beautiful teeth; 
the earnest dark eyes filled with a kindly regard ; the eyebrows 
high, so that they gave a timid and wondering look to the face ; 
the forehead low and sweet, with some loose brown hair about 
it that the wind stirred. He knew every feature of that face 


THE TWO PICTURES. 


95 


and every varying look of the eyes, whether they were pleased 
and grateful, or sad and distant, or overbrimming with a humor- 
ous and malicious fun. He knew the shape of her hands, the 
graceful poise of her waist and neck, the very way she put down 
her foot in walking. He was thoroughly well aware of the ap- 
pearance which the girl he meant to marry presented to the un- 
biassed eyes of the world. 

Harry Trelyon’s mental picture of her was far more vague and 
unsatisfactory. Driven into a corner, he would have admitted to 
you that Wenna Rosewarne was not very good-looking ; but that 
would not have affected his fixed and private belief that he knew 
no woman who had so beautiful and tender a face. For some- 
how, when he thought of her, he seemed to see her, as he had 
often seen her, go by him on a summer morning on her way to 
church ; and as the sweet, small Puritan would turn to him, and 
say in her gentle way, “ Good-morning, Mr. Trelyon,” he would 
feel vexed and ashamed that he had been found with a gun in his 
hand, and be inclined to heave it into the nearest ditch. Then 
she would go on her way, along between the green hedges, in the 
summer light ; and the look of her face that remained in his mem- 
ory was as the look of an angel, calm and sw r eet, and never to be 
forgotten. 

“ Of course,” said Mr. Roscorla in this smoking-room, “ if I go 
to Jamaica, I must get married before I start.” 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE CHAIN TIGHTENS. 

Once, and once only, Wenna broke down. She had gone out 
into the night all by herself, with some vague notion that the 
cold, dank sea-air — sweet with the scent of the roses in the cot- 
tage gardens — would be gratefully cool as it came around her face. 
The day had been stormy, and the sea was high — she could hear 
the waves dashing in on the rocks at the mouth of the harbor — 
but the heavens were clear, and over the dark earth the great vault 
of stars throbbed and burned in silence. She was alone, for Mr. 
Roscorla had not returned from London, and Mabyn had not no- 


96 


THREE FEATHERS. 


ticed her slipping out. And here, in the cool, sweet darkness, the 
waves seemed to call on her with a low and melancholy voice. 
A great longing and trouble came somehow into her heart, and 
drove her to wander onwards as if she should find rest in the 
mere loneliness of the night, until at length there was nothing 
around her but the dark land and the sea and the white stars. 

She could not tell what wild and sad feeling this was that had 
taken possession of her ; but she knew that she had suddenly fall- 
en away from the calm content of the wife that was to be — with 
all the pleasant sensation of gratitude towards him who had hon- 
ored her, and the no less pleasant consciousness that her impor- 
tance in the world, and her power of helping the people around 
her, were indefinitely increased. She had become again the plain 
Jim Crow of former days, longing to be able to do some indefi- 
nitely noble and unselfish thing — ready, indeed, to lay her life 
down so that she might earn some measure of kindly regard by 
the sacrifice. And once more she reflected that she had no great 
influence in the world, that she was of no account to anybody, 
that she was plain and small and insignificant; and the great de- 
sire in her heart of being of distinct and beautiful service to the 
many people whom she loved seemed to break itself against these 
narrow bars, until the cry of the sea around her was a cry of pain, 
and the stars looked coldly down on her, and even God himself 
seemed far away and indifferent. 

“ If I could only tell some one — if I could only tell some one !” 
she was saying to herself wildly, as she walked rapidly onwards, 
not seeing very well where she was going, for her eyes were full 
of tears. “ But if I tell Mabyn she will say that I fear this mar- 
riage, and go straight to Mr. Roscorla ; and if I tell my mother she 
will think me ungrateful to him, and to every one around me. 
And how can I explain to them what I cannot explain to myself ? 
And if I cannot explain it to myself, is it not mere folly to yield 
to such a feeling ?” 

The question was easily asked and easily answered; and with 
much show of bravery she proceeded to ask herself other ques- 
tions, less easily answered. She began to reproach herself with 
ingratitude, with vanity, with a thousand errors and evil qualities : 
she would teach herself humility ; she would endeavor to be con- 
tented and satisfied in the position in which she found herself; 
she would reflect on the thousands of miserable people who had 


THE CHAIN TIGHTENS. 


97 


real reason to complain, and yet bore their sufferings with forti- 
tude ; and she would now — straightway and at once — return to 
her room, get out the first letter Mr. Roscorla had written to her, 
and convince herself once more that she ought to be happy. 

The climax was a strange one. She had been persuading her- 
self that there was no real cause for this sudden fit of doubt and 
wretchedness. She had been anticipating her sister’s probable 
explanation, and dismissing it. And yet, as she turned and walk- 
ed back along the narrow path leading down to the bridge, she 
comforted herself with the notion that Mr. Roscorla’s letter would 
reassure her and banish these imaginary sorrows. She had fre- 
quently read over that letter, and she knew that its ingenious and 
lucid- arguments were simply incontrovertible. 

u Oh, Wenna !” Mabyn cried, “ what has been troubling you ? 
Do you know that your face is quite white ? Have you been out 
all by yourself ?” 

Wenna, on getting home, had gone into the little snuggery 
which was once a bar, and which was now George Rosewarne’s 
smoking-room. Mabyn and her father had been playing chess — 
the board and pieces were still on the table. Wenna sat down, 
apparently a little tired. 

“ Yes, I have been out for a walk,” she said. 

“ Wenna, tell me what is the matter with you !” the younger 
sister said, imperatively. 

“ There is nothing the matter. Well, I suppose you will tease 
me until I tell you something. I have had a fit of despondency, 
Mabyn, and that’s all — despondency, over nothing ; and now I 
am quite cured, and do you think Jennifer could get me a cup of 
tea ? Well, why do you stare ? Is there anything wonderful in 
it ? I suppose every girl must get frightened a little bit when she 
thinks of all that may happen to her — especially when she is 
a l one — a nd of course it is very ungrateful of her to have any 
such doubts, though they mean nothing, and she ought to be 
ashamed — ” 

She stopped suddenly. To her dismay she found that she was 
admitting to Mabyn the very reasons which she expected to have 
to combat. She saw what she had done in the expression of 
Mabyn’s face — in the proud, indignant mouth and the half-con- 
cealed anger of the eyes. The younger sister was silent for a 
minute, and then she said, passionately — 

7 


98 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ If there’s any one to be ashamed, it isn’t you, Wenna. I 
know who it is. As for you, I don’t know what has come over 
you of late — you are trying to be meeker and meeker, and more 
humble, and more grateful — and all for what? What have you 
to be grateful for ? And you are losing all your fun and your 
good spirits ; and you are getting to be just like children in the 
story-books, that repeat texts and get gooder and gooder every 
day until they are only fit for heaven ; and I am sure I am always 
glad when the little beasts die. Oh, Wenna, I would rather see 
you do the wickedest thing in all the world if it would only bring 
you back to your old self !” 

“ Why, you foolish girl, I am my old self,” the elder sister 
said, quietly taking off her bonnet and laying it on the table. . “ Is 
Jennifer up-stairs? Who is in the parlor?” 

“ Oh, your sweetheart is in the parlor,” said Mabyn, with bad- 
ly concealed contempt. “He is just arrived from London. I 
suppose he is telling mother about his rheumatism.” 

“He hasn’t got any rheumatism — any more than you have,” 
Wenna said, with some asperity. 

“ Oh yes, he has,” the younger sister said, inventing a diabol- 
ical story for the mere purpose of getting Wenna into a rage. 
She would rather have her in a succession of tempers than the 
victim of this chastened meekness. “ And gout too — I can see 
by the color of his nails. Of course he hasn’t told you, for you’re 
such a simpleton he takes advantage of you. And he is near- 
sighted, but he pretends he doesn’t need spectacles. And I am 
told he has fearful debts hanging over his head in London, and 
that he only came here to hide ; and if you marry him you’ll see 
what will come to you.” 

Mabyn was not very successful in making her sister angry. 
Wenna only laughed in her gentle fashion, and put her light shawl 
beside her bonnet, and then went along the passage to the parlor, 
in which Mr. Roscorla and her mother were talking. 

The meeting of the lovers after their temporary separation was 
not an impassioned one. They shook hands ; Wenna hoped he 
was not fatigued by the long journey ; and then he resumed his 
task of describing to Mrs. Rosewarne the extraordinary appear- 
ance of Trelyon’s sitting-room in Nolan’s Hotel, after the young 
gentleman had filled it with birds and beasts. Presently, how- 
ever, Wenna’s mother made some pretence for getting out of the 


THE CHAIN TIGHTENS. 


99 


room, and Mr. Roscorla and his betrothed were left alone. He 
rarely got such an opportunity. 

“ Wenna, I have brought you the ring,” said he ; and with that 
he took a small case from his pocket, and opened it, and produced 
a very pretty gipsy ring studded with emeralds. 

Now on the journey down from London he had definitely re- 
solved that he would put an end to that embarrassment or shame- 
facedness which had hitherto prevented his offering to kiss the 
girl whom he expected to marry. He was aware that there was 
something ridiculous in his not having done so. He reflected 
that scarcely any human being would believe that he could have 
been such a fool. And it occurred to him, in the train, that the 
occasion of his giving Wenna her engaged ring would be an ex- 
cellent opportunity for breaking in upon this absurd delicacy. 

He went across the room to her. She sat still, perhaps a little 
paler than usual. He took her hand, and put the ring on, and 
then — 

Then it suddenly occurred to him that there was something 
devilish in the notion of his purchasing the right to kiss her by 
giving her a trinket. Not that any such scruple would otherwise 
have affected him ; but he was nervously sensitive as to what she 
might think ; and doubtless she was familiar with the story of Mar- 
garethe and Faust’s casket of jewels. So he suddenly said, with 
an air of carelessness — 

“ Well, do you like it ? You can’t quite tell the color of the 
stones by lamplight, you know.” 

Wenna was not thinking of the color of the stones. Her hand 
trembled ; her heart beat quickly ; when she did manage to an- 
swer him, it was merely to say, in a confused fashion, that she 
thought the ring very beautiful indeed. 

“ You know,” he said, with a laugh, “ I don’t think men like 
engaged rings quite as well as girls do. A girl generally seems 
to take such a fancy for an engaged ring that she won’t change 
it for any other. I hope that won’t be in your case, Wenna ; and, 
indeed, I wanted to talk to you about it.” 

He brought a chair close to her, and sat down by her, and took 
her hand. Now, ordinarily Wenna’s small, white, plump hands 
were so warm that her sister used to say that they tingled to the 
very tips of her fingers with kindness, and were always wanting to 
give away something. The hand which Mr. Roscorla held was as 

L.ofC. 


100 


THREE FEATHERS. 


cold and as impassive as ice. He did not notice it : he was en- 
gaged in preparing sentences. 

“You know, Wenna,” said he, “ that I am not a rich man. 
When I might have taught myself to work I had just sufficient 
income to keep me idle ; and now that this income is growing 
less, and when' I have greater claims on it, I must try something. 
Well, my partners and myself have thought of a scheme which I 
think will turn out all right. They propose to wake up those 
estates in Jamaica, and see if they can’t be made to produce 
something like what they used to produce. That wants money. 
They have it : I have not. It is true I have been offered the loan 
of a few thousand pounds ; but even if I accept it — and I sup- 
pose I must — that would not put me on an equal footing with 
the other men who are going into the affair. This, however, I 
could do : I could go out there and do all in my power to look 
after their interests and my own — see, in fact, that the money was 
being properly expended, before it was too late. Now I might be 
there a very long time.” 

“ Yes,” said Wenna, in a low voice, and rather inappropriately. 

“ Now don’t let me alarm you; but do you think — do you not 
think, in view of what might be rather a long separation, that we 
ought to get married before I go ?” 

She suddenly and inadvertently withdrew her hand. 

“But don’t make any mistake, Wenna,” he said; “I did not 
propose you should go with me. That would be asking too 
much. I don’t wish to take you to the West Indies ; because I 
might be there only for a few months. All I wish is to have the 
bond that unites us already made fast before I go, merely as a 
comfortable thing to think of, don’t you see ?” 

“ Oh, it is too hasty — I am afraid — why should we be in such 
a hurry?” the girl said, still with her heart beating so that she 
could scarcely speak. 

“ No,” he argued, “ you must not make another mistake. Be- 
fore this scheme can be matured, months must elapse. I may 
not have to go out before the beginning of next year. Now 
surely other six months would make a sufficiently long engage- 
ment.” 

“ Oh, but the pledge is so terrible,” she said, and scarcely know- 
ing what she said. 

Mr. Roscorla was at once astonished and vexed. That was cer- 


THE CHAIN TIGHTENS. 


101 


tainly not the mood in which a girl ought to look forward to her 
marriage. He could not understand this dread on her part. He 
began to ask himself whether she would like to enjoy the self-im- 
portance that her engagement had bestowed on her — the atten- 
tions he paid her, the assistance he gave her in her charitable 
labors, and the sort of sovereignty over a man which a girl en- 
joys during the betrothal period — for an indefinite time, or per- 
haps with the hope that the sudden destruction of all these 
things by marriage might never arrive at all. Then he began to 
get a little angry, and got up from the chair, and walked once or 
twice up and down the room. 

“Well,” said he, “ I don’t understand you, I confess. Except 
in this way, that our relations with each other have not been so 
openly affectionate as they might have been. That I admit. Per- 
haps it was my fault. I suppose, for example, you have been sur- 
prised that I never offered to kiss you ?” 

There was something almost of a threat in the last few words ; 
and Wenna, with her cheeks suddenly burning red, anxiously has- 
tened to say — 

“ Oh, not at all. It was my fault. I am sure if there was too 
great reserve it was my fault ; but I do not think there has been. 
It is not that at all ; but your wish seems so sudden, and so un- 
necessary.” 

“ Don’t you see,” he said, interrupting her, “ that if our rela- 
tions at present are not sufficiently frank and confidential, nothing 
will mend that so easily as our marriage? And this that I ask 
of you ought to be as agreeable to you as to me — that is to 
say—” 

He stopped, with a look of impatience on his face. There was 
some one coming along the passage. He knew who it was, too ; 
for a young girl’s voice was doing its best to imitate in a bur- 
lesque fashion a young man’s voice ; and Mr. Roscorla had already 
heard Harry Trelyon, as he rode or drove carelessly along, bawling 
to himself, “ Oh, the men of merry, merry England !” He knew 
that his old enemy Mabyn was at hand. 

That very clever imitation of Harry Trelyon was all the warn- 
ing that the young lady in question condescended to give of her 
approach. She opened the door without ceremony, marched into 
the middle of the room, and proudly placed a bird-cage on the 
table. 


102 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ There,” said she, “ can either of you tell me what that bird 
is ?” 

“ Of course I can,” said Wenna, rising with a sensation of great 
relief. 

“ No, you can’t,” her sister said, dogmatically. “ It is sent to 
you with Mr. Harry Trelyon’s compliments ; and it is something 
very wonderful indeed. What is it, ladies and gentlemen ? Don’t 
answer all at once !” 

“ Why, it is only — ” 

“ A piping bullfinch — that’s what it is ” said Mabyn, triumph- 
antly. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AN UNEXPECTED CONVERT. 

Next morning was Sunday morning ; and Wenna, having many 
things to think over by herself, started off alone to church, some 
little time before the others, and chose a circuitous route to the 
small building which stands on the high uplands over the sea. It 
was a beautiful morning, still and peaceful, with the warmth of 
the sunlight cooled by a refreshing western breeze ; and as she 
went along and up the valley, her heart gradually forgot its cares, 
for she was listening to the birds singing, and picking up an oc- 
casional wild flower, or watching the slow white clouds across the 
blue sky. And as she walked quietly along in this way, finding 
her life the sweeter for the sweet air and the abundant color and 
brightness of all the things around her, it chanced that she saw 
Harry Trelyon coming across one of the meadows, evidently with 
the intention of bidding her good-morning ; and she thought she 
would stop and thank him for having sent her the bullfinch. This 
she did very prettily when he came up ; and he, with something 
of a blush on his handsome face, said — 

“I thought you wouldn’t be offended. One can use more 
freedom with you now that you are as good as married, you 
know.” 

She quickly got away from that subject by asking him wheth- 
er he was coming to church ; and to that question he replied by 
rather a scornful laugh, and by asking what the parsons would say 


AN UNEXPECTED CONVERT. 


103 


if he took a gun into the family pew. In fact, he had brought 
out an air-cane to test its carrying powers ; and he now bore it 
over his shoulder. 

“ I think you might have left the gun at home on a Sunday 
morning,” Miss Wenna said, in rather a precise fashion. “ And, 
do you know, Mr. Trelyon, I can’t understand why you should 
speak in that way about clergymen, when you say yourself that 
you always avoid them, and don’t know anything about them. 
It reminds me of a stable-boy we once had who used to amuse 
the other lads by being impertinent to every stranger who might 
pass, simply because the stranger was a stranger.” 

This was a deadly thrust ; and the tall young gentleman flushed, 
and was obviously a trifle angry. Did she mean to convey that he 
had acquired his manners from stable-boys ? 

“ Parsons and churches are too good for the likes o’ me,” he 
said, contemptuously. “ ’Morning, Miss Rosewarne,” and with 
that he walked off. 

But about three minutes thereafter, when she was peacefully 
continuing her way, he overtook her again, and said to her, in 
rather a shamefaced fashion — 

“ I hope you don’t think I meant to be rude to you, Miss Wen- 
na. I’ll go to church with you if you like. I’ve stuck my air- 
cane in a safe place.” 

Wenna’s face brightened. 

“ I shall be very glad,” she said, with a smile far more frank 
and friendly than any she had ever yet bestowed on him. “ And 
I am sure if you came often to hear Mr. Trewhella, or if you knew 
him, you would think differently about clergymen.” 

“ Oh, well,” Trelyon said, “ he’s a good sort of old chap, I 
think. I find no fault with him. But look at such a fellow 
as that Barnes — why, that fellow’s son was with me at Rugby, 
and wasn’t he a pretty chip of the old block — a mean, lying lit- 
tle beggar, who would do anything to get a half-crown out of 
you.” 

“ Oh, were you at Rugby ?” Wenna asked, innocently. 

“ I don’t wonder at your asking,” her companion said, with a 
grin. “You think it doesn’t look as if I had ever been to any 
school ? Oh yes, I was at Rugby ; and my career there, if brief, 
was not inglorious. I think the records of all the eight Houses 
might be searched in vain to find such another ruffian as I was, or 


104 


THREE FEATHERS. 


any one who managed to get into the same number of scrapes in 
the same time. The end was dramatic. They wouldn’t let me 
go to a ball in the town-hall. I had vowed I should be there ; 
and I got out of the House at night and went. And I hadn’t 
been in the place ten minutes when I saw the very master who 
had refused me fix his glittering eye on me ; so, as I knew it was 
all over, I merely went up to him and asked to have the pleasure 
of being introduced to his daughter. I thought he’d have had a 
fit. But that little brute Barnes I was telling you about, he was 
our champion bun-eater. At that time, you know, they used to 
give you as many buns as ever you liked on Shrove Tuesday ; and 
the Houses used to eat against each other, and this fellow Barnes 
was our champion ; and, oh Lord ! the number he stowed away 
that morning. When we went to chapel afterwards, he was as 
green as a leek.” 

“ But do you dislike clergymen because Master Barnes ate too 
many buns ?” Wenna asked, with a gentle smile, which rather ag- 
grieved her companion. 

“ Do you know,” said he, “ I think you are awfully hard on me. 
You are always trying to catch me up. Here am I walking to 
church with you, like an angel of submission, and all the thanks I 
get — Why, there goes my mother !” 

Just in front of them, and a short distance from the church, the 
road they were following joined the main highway leading up from 
Eglosilyan, and along the latter Mrs. Trelyon’s brougham was driv- 
ing past. That lady was very much astonished to find her son 
walking with Miss Wenna Rosewarne on a Sunday morning; and 
still more surprised when, after she was in church, she beheld Mas- 
ter Harry walk coolly in and march up to the family pew. Here, 
indeed, was a revolution. Which of all the people assembled — 
among whom were Miss Mabyn and her mother, and Mr. Roscor- 
la — had ever seen the like of this before ? And it was all the 
greater wonder that the young gentleman in the rough shooting- 
coat found two clergymen in the pew, and nevertheless entered it, 
and quietly accepted from one of them a couple of books. 

Mrs. Trelyon’s gentle and emotional heart warmed towards the 
girl who had done this thing. 

That forenoon, just before luncheon, Mrs. Trelyon found her 
son in the library, and said to him, with an unusual kindliness of 
manner — 


AN UNEXPECTED CONVERT. 


105 


“ That was Miss Rosewarne, Harry, wasn’t it, whom I saw this 
morning ?” 

“Yes,” he said, sulkily. He half expected that one or other of 
his friends, the parsons, had been saying something about her to 
his mother. 

“ She is a very quiet, nice-looking girl ; I am sure Mr. Roscorla 
has acted wisely, after all. And I have been thinking, Harry, that 
since she is a friend of yours, we might do something like what 
you proposed, only not in a way to make people talk.” 

“ Oh,” said he, “ I have done it already. I have promised 
to lend Roscorla five thousand pounds to help him to work his 
Jamaica estates. If you don’t like to sanction the affair, I can 
get the money from the Jews. I have written to Colonel Ran- 
some to tell him so.” 

“ Now why should you treat me so, Harry ?” his mother said. 

“ I took you at your word — that’s all. I suppose now you are 
better disposed to the girl merely because she got me to go to 
church this morning. If there were more people like her about 
churches, in the pulpits and out of them, I’d go oftener.” 

“ I was not quite sure who she was,” Mrs. Trelyon said, with a 
feeble air of apology. “ I like her appearance very much ; and 
I wish she or anybody else would induce you to go to church. 
Well now, Harry, I will myself lend you the five thousand pounds 
till you come of age. Surely that will be much better ; and, if 
you like, I will make Miss Rosewarne’s acquaintance. You might 
ask her to dinner the first time Mr. Roscorla is coming ; and he 
could bring her.” 

• Master Harry was at last pacified. 

“ Make it Thursday,” said he ; “ and you will write to her, 
won’t you ? I will take down the letter and persuade her ; but 
if she comes she sha’n’t come under the wing of Mr. Roscorla, as 
if he were the means of introducing her. I shall go down for 
her with the brougham, and fetch her myself.” 

“ But what will Mr. Roscorla say to that ?” his mother asked, 
with a smile. 

“ Mr. Roscorla may say whatever he particularly pleases,” re- 
sponded Master Harry. 


106 


THREE FEATHERS. 


CHAPTER XIV. 

“ SIE BAT SO SANFT, SO LIEBLICH.” 

“To dine at Trelyon Hall?” said George Rosewarne to his 
eldest daughter, when she in a manner asked his consent. “ Why 
not? But you must get a new dress, lass; we can’t have you go 
among grand folks as Jim Crow.” 

“ But there is a story about the crow that went out with pea- 
cock’s feathers,” his daughter said to him. “ And, besides, how 
could I get a new dress by Thursday ?” 

“How could you get a new 'dress by Thursday?” her father 
repeated mechanically, for he was watching one of his pet pigeons 
on the roof of the mill. “ How can I tell you ? Go and ask 
your mother. Don’t bother me.” 

It is quite certain that Wenna would not have availed herself 
of this gracious permission — for her mother was not very well, 
and she did not wish to increase that tender anxiety which Mrs. 
Rosewarne already showed about her daughter’s going among 
these strangers — but that this conversation had been overheard 
by Mabyn, and that young lady, as was her habit, plunged head- 
long into the matter. 

“You can have the dress quite well, Wenna,” she said, coming 
out to the door of the inn, and calling on her mother to come 
too. “ Now, look here, mother, I give you warning that I never, 
never, never will speak another word to Wenna if she doesn’t 
take the silk that is lying by for me and have it made up directly 
— never a single word, if I live in Eglosilyan for a hundred and 
twenty-five years !” 

“ Mabyn, I don’t want a new dress,” Wenna expostulated. “ I 
don’t need one. Why should you rush at little things as if you 
were a squadron of cavalry ?” 

“ I don’t care whether you want it or whether you don’t want 
it; but you’ve got to have it, hasn’t she, mother? Or else it’s 
what I tell you : not a word — not a word, if you were to go down 


SIE BAT SO SANFT, SO LIEBLICH. 


107 


u 


before me on your bended knees.” This was said with much 
dramatic effect. 

“ I think you had better let Mabyn have her own way,” the 
mother said, gently. 

“ I let her ?” Wenna answered, pretending not to notice Mabyn’s 
look of defiance and triumph. “ She always has her own way ; 
tomboys always have.” 

“Don’t call names, Wenna,” her sister said, severely; “espe- 
cially as I have just given you a dress. You’ll have to get Miss 
Keam down directly, or else I’ll go and cut it myself, and then 
you’ll have Harry Trelyon laughing at you ; for he always laughs 
at people who don’t know how to keep him in his proper place.” 

“ Meaning yourself, Mabyn,” the mother said ; but Mabyn was 
not to be crushed by any sarcasm. 

Certainly Harry Trelyon was in no laughing or spiteful mood 
when he drove down on that Thursday evening to take Wenna 
Rosewarne up to the Hall. He was as pleased and proud as he 
well could be ; and when he went into the inn he made no secret 
of his satisfaction and of his gratitude to her for having been 
good enough to accept his mother’s invitation. Moreover, under- 
standing that Mrs. Rosewarne was still rather ailing, he had brought 
down for her a brace of grouse from a hamper that had reached 
the Hall from Yorkshire that morning ; and he was even friendly 
and good-natured to Mabyn instead of being ceremoniously im- 
pertinent towards her. 

“ Don’t you think, Mr. Trelyon,” said Wenna, in a timid way, as 
she was getting into the brougham — “ don’t you think we should 
drive around for Mr. Roscorla ?” 

“ Oh, certainly not,” said Mabyn, with promptitude. “ He al- 
ways prefers a walk before dinner — I know he does — he told me 
so. He must have started long ago. Don’t you mind her, Mr. 
Trelyon.” 

Mr. Trelyon was grinning as he and Wenna drove away. 

“ She’s a thorough good sort of girl, that sister of yours,” he 
said ; “ but when she marries won’t she lead her husband a pretty 
dance !” 

“ Oh, nothing of the sort, I can assure you,” Wenna said, sharply. 
“ She is as gentle as any one can well be. If she is impetuous, 
it is always in thinking of other people. There is nothing she 
wouldn’t do to serve those whom she really cares for.” 


108 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Well,” said he, with a laugh, “ I never knew two girls stick up 
so for one another. Don’t imagine I was such a fool as to say 
anything against her. But sisters ain’t often like that. My 
cousin Jue has a sister at school, and when she’s at home the 
bullying that goes on is something awful ; or rather it’s nagging 
and scratching, for girls never go in for a fair stand-up fight. And 
yet when you meet these two separately, you find each of them 
as good-natured and good-tempered as you could wish. But if 
there’s anything said about you anywhere that isn’t positive wor- 
ship, why Mabyn comes down on the people like a cart-load of 
bricks ; and she can do it, mind you, when she likes.” 

“ Remember,” he said, after a word or two, “ I mean to take 
you in to dinner. It is just possible my mother may ask Mr. 
Roscorla to take you in, as a compliment to him ; but don’t you 
go.” 

“ I must do what I am told,” Wenna answered, meekly. 

“ Oh no, you mustn’t,” he said. “ That is merely a girl’s no- 
tion of what is proper. You are a woman now ; you can do what 
you like. Don’t you know how your position is changed since 
you became engaged?” 

“ Yes, it is changed,” she said ; and then she added quickly, 
“ Surely that must be a planet that one can see already.” 

“ You can be much more independent in your actions now, and 
much more friendly with many people, don’t you know ?” said 
this young man, who did not see that he was treading on very 
delicate ground, and that of all things in the world that Wenna 
least liked to hear spoken of, her engagement to Mr. Roscorla 
was the chief. 

Late that night, when Wenna returned from her first dinner- 
party at Trelyon Hall, she found her sister Mabyn waiting up for 
her, and, having properly scolded the young lady for so doing, 
she sat down and consented to give her an ample and minute de- 
scription of all the strange things that had happened. 

“Well, you must know,” said she, folding her hands on her 
knees as she had been used to do in telling tales to Mabyn when 
they were children together — “you must know that when we 
drove up through the trees, the house seemed very big and gray 
and still ; for it was getting dark, and there was no sound about 
the place. It was so ghost-like that it rather frightened me ; but 
in the hall we passed the door of a large room, and there I got a 


109 


“ SIE BAT SO SANFT, SO LIEBLICH.” 

glimpse of a very gay and brilliant place, and I heard some peo- 
ple talking. Mr. Trelvon was waiting for me when I came down 
again, and he took me into the drawing-room and introduced me 
to his mother, who was very kind to me, but did not seem in- 
clined to speak much to any one. There was no other lady in the 
room — only those two clergymen who were in church last Sunday, 
and Mr. Trewhella and Mr. Roscorla. I thought Mr. Roscorla 
was a little embarrassed when he came forward to shake hands 
with me — and that was natural, for all the people must have 
known — and he looked at my dress the moment I entered the 
room ; and then, Mabyn, I did thank you in my heart for letting 
me have it ; for I had forgotten that Mr. Roscorla would regard 
me as being on my trial, and I hope he was not ashamed of 
me.” 

“ Ashamed of you !” said Mabyn, with a sudden flash of anger. 
“ Do you mean that he was on his trial ?” 

“ Be quiet. Well, you must know that Mr. Trelyon was in 
very high spirits, but I never saw him so good-natured, and he 
must needs take me in to dinner, and I sat on his right hand. 
Mrs. Trelyon told me it was only a quiet little family party ; and 
I said I was very glad. Do you know, Mabyn, there is something 
about her that you can’t help liking — I think it is her voice and 
her soft way of looking at you ; but she is so very gentle and 
ordinarily so silent, that she makes you feel as if you were a very 
forward and talkative and rude person — ” 

“ That is precisely what you are, Wenna,” Mabyn observed, in 
her school-girl sarcasm. 

“ But Mr. Trelyon, he was talking to everybody at once — all 
around the table — I never saw him in such spirits ; and most of 
all he was very kind to Mr. Trewhella, and I liked him for that. 
He told me he had asked Mr. Trewhella because I was coming ; 
and one thing I noticed was that he was always sending the but- 
ler to fill Mr. Trewhella’s glass, or to offer him some different 
wine, whereas he let the other two clergymen take their chance. 
Mr. Roscorla was at the other end of the table — he took in Mrs. 
Trelyon — I hope he was not vexed that I did not have a chance 
of speaking to him the whole evening ; but how could I help it ? 
He would not come near me in the drawing-room — perhaps that 
was proper, considering that we are engaged ; only I hope he is 
not vexed.” 


110 


THREE FEATHERS. 


For once Miss Mabyn kept a bold over her tongue, and did not 
reveal the thoughts that were uppermost in her mind. 

“ Well, after dinner Mrs. Trelyon and I went back to the draw- 
ing-room ; and it was very brilliant and beautiful ; but, oh ! one 
felt so much alone in the big place that I was glad when she 
asked me if I would play something for her. It was something 
to think about ; but I had no music, and I had to begin and rec- 
ollect all sorts of pieces that I had almost forgotten. At first she 
was at the other end of the room, in a low easy-chair of rose- 
colored silk, and she looked really very beautiful and sad, and as 
if she were dreaming. But by and by she came over and sat by the 
piano ; and it was as if you were playing to a ghost, that listened 
without speaking. I played one or two of the ‘ Songs without 
Words’ — those I could recollect easily — then Beethoven’s ‘ Fare- 
well ;’ but while I was playing that 1 happened to turn a little 
bit, and, do you know, she was crying in a quiet and silent way. 
Then she put her hand gently on my arm, and I stopped playing, 
but I did not turn towards her, for there was something so strange 
and sad in seeing her cry that I was nearly crying myself, and I did 
not know what was troubling her. Then, do you know, Mabyn, 
she rose and put her hand on my head, and said, ‘ I hear you are 
a very good girl : I hope you will come and see me.’ Then I told 
her I was sorry that something I had played had troubled her; 
and as I saw she was still distressed, I was very glad when she 
asked me if I would put on a hood and shawl, and take a turn 
with her round some of the paths outside. It is such a beautiful 
night to-night, Mabyn ; and up there, where you seemed to be 
just under the stars, the scents of the flowers were so sweet. 
Sometimes we walked under the trees, almost in darkness, and 
then we would come out on the clear space of the lawn, and find 
the skies overhead, and then we would go into the rose-garden, 
and all the time she was no longer like a ghost, but talking to 
me as if she had known me a long time. And she is such a strange 
woman, Mabyn — she seems to live so much apart from other peo- 
ple, and to look at everything just as it affects herself. Fancy a 
harp, you know, never thinking of the music it was making ; but 
looking all the time at the quivering of its own strings. I hope 
I did not offend her ; for when she was saying some very friendly 
things about me — of course Mr. Trelyon had been telling her a 
heap of nonsense — about helping people and that, she seemed to 


Ill 


“ SIE BAT SO SANFT, SO LIEBLICH.” 

think that the only person to be considered in such cases was 
yourself, and not those whom you might try to help. Well, when 
she was talking about the beautiful sensations of being benevolent 
— and how it softened your heart and refined your feelings to be 
charitable — I am afraid I said something I should not have said, 
for she immediately turned and asked me what more I would 
have her do. Well, I thought to myself, if I have offended her, 
it’s done and can’t be helped; and so I plunged into the very 
thing I had been thinking of all the way in the brougham — ” 

“ The Sewing Club !” said Mabyn ; for Wenna had already 
spoken of her dark and nefarious scheme to her sister. 

“Yes; once I was in it, I told her of the whole affair; and 
what she could do if she liked. She was surprised, and I think 
a little afraid. ‘ I do not know the people,’ she said, ‘ as you do. 
But I should be delighted to give you all the money you required, 
if you would undertake the rest.’ ‘ Oh no, madam,’ said I (after- 
wards she asked me not to call her so), * that is impossible. I 
have many things to do at home, especially at present, for my 
mother is not well. What little time I can give to other people 
has many calls on it. And I could not do all this by myself.’ ” 

“ I should think not,” said Mabyn, rising up in great indigna- 
tion, and beginning to walk up and down the room. “Why, 
Wenna, they’d work your fingers to the bone, and never say thank 
you. You do far too much already — I say you do far too much 
already — and the idea that you should do that ! You may say 
what you like about Mrs. Trelyon — she may be a very good lady, 
but I consider it nothing less than mean — I consider it disgrace- 
ful, mean, and abominably wicked that she should ask you to do 
all this work and do nothing herself !” 

“ My dear child,” said Wenna, “ you are quite unjust. Mrs. 
Trelyon is neither mean nor wicked ; but she was in ignorance, and 
she is timid, and unused to visiting poor people. When I showed 
her that no one in Eglosilyan could so effectively begin the Club 
as herself — and that the reckless giving of money that she seemed 
inclined to was the worst sort of kindness — and when I told her 
of all my plans of getting the materials wholesale, and making 
the husbands subscribe and the women sew, and all that I have 
told vou, she took to the plan with an almost childish enthusiasm ; 
and now it is quite settled, and the only danger is that she may 
destroy the purpose of it by being over-generous. Don’t you see, 


112 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Mabyn, it is her first effort in actual and practical benevolence — 
she seems hitherto only to have satisfied her sense of duty or 
pleased her feelings by giving checks to public charities — and 
she is already only a little too eager and interested in it. She 
doesn’t know what a slow and wearisome thing it is to give some 
little help to your neighbors discreetly.” 

“ Oh, Wenna,” her sister said, “ what a manager you are ! 
Sometimes I think you must be a thousand years of age ; and 
other times you seem so silly about your own affairs that I can’t 
understand you. Did Mr. Roscorla bring you home ?” 

“ No, but he came in the brougham along with Mr. Trelyon. 
There was a great deal of joking about the conquest — so they 
said — I had made of Mrs. Trelyon ; but you see how it all came 
about, Mabyn. She was so interested in this scheme — ” 

“ Oh yes ; I see how it all came about,” said Mabyn, quite con- 
tentedly. “ And now you are very tired, you poor little thing, 
and I slia’n’t ask you any more about your dinner-party to-night. 
Here is a candle.” 

Wenna was just going into her own room, when her sister 
turned and said — 

“ Wenna!” 

“Yes, dear.” 

“ Do you think that his Royal Highness Mr. Roscorla conde- 
scended to be pleased with your appearance and your manners 
and your dress ?” 

“Don’t you ask impertinent questions,” said Wenna, as she 
shut the door. 


CHAPTER XV. 

A LEAVE-TAKING OF LOVERS. 

Wenna had indeed made a conquest of the pale and gentle 
lady up at the Hall, which at another time might have been at- 
tended with important results to the people of Eglosilyan. But 
at this period of the year the Trelyons were in the habit of leav- 
ing Cornwall for a few months ; Mrs. Trelyon generally going to 
some Continental watering-place, while her son proceeded to accept 


A LEAVE-TAKING OF LOVERS. 


113 


such invitations as lie could get to shoot in the English counties. 
This autumn Harry Trelyon accompanied his mother as far as 
Etretat, where a number of her friends had made up a small 
party. From this point she wrote to Wenna, saying how sorry 
she was she could not personally help in founding that Sewing 
Club, but offering to send a handsome subscription. Wenna an- 
swered the letter in a dutiful spirit, but firmly declined the offer. 
Then nothing was heard of the Trelyons for a long time, except 
that now and again a hamper of game would make its appearance 
at Eglosilyan, addressed to Miss Wenna Rosewarne in a sprawling 
school-boy’s hand, which she easily recognized. Master Harry was 
certainly acting on his own theory that now she was engaged he 
could give her presents, or otherwise be as familiar and friendly 
with her as he pleased. 

It was a dull, slow, and dreary winter. Mr. Roscorla was deep- 
ly engaged with his Jamaica project, and was occasionally up in 
London for a fortnight at a time. He had got the money from 
young Trelyon, and soon hoped to set out — as he told Wenna — 
to make his fortune. She put no obstacle in his way, nor did 
she encourage him to go ; it was for him to decide, and she would 
abide by his decision. For the rest, he never revived that request 
of his that they should be married before he went. 

Eglosilyan in winter-time is a very different place from the 
Eglosilyan of the happy summer months. The wild coast is 
sombre and gloomy. The uplands are windy and bleak and 
bare. There is no shining plain of blue lying around the land, 
but a dark and cheerless sea, that howls in the night-time as it 
beats on the mighty walls of black rock. It is rather a relief, in- 
deed — to break the mournful silence of those projecting cliffs 
and untenanted bays — when the heavens are shaken with a storm, 
and when the gigantic waves wash into the small harbor, so that 
the coasters seeking shelter there have to be scuttled and tempo- 
rarily sunk in order to save them. Then there are the fierce rains, 
to guard against which the seaward-looking houses have been faced 
with slate ; and the gardens get dank and wet, and the ways are 
full of mire, and no one dares venture out on the slippery cliffs. 
It was a tedious and a cheerless winter. 

Then Mrs. Rosewarne was more or less of an invalid the most 
of the time, and Wenna was much occupied by household cares. 
Occasionally, when her duties indoors and in the cottages of he/ 
8 


114 


THREE FEATHERS. 


humble friends had been got over, she would climb up the hill on 
the other side of the mill-stream to have a look around her. One 
seemed to breathe more freely up there among the rocks and furze 
than in small parlors or kitchens where children had to be labo- 
riously taught. And yet the picture was not cheerful. A gray 
and leaden sea — a black line of cliffs standing sharp against it un- 
til lost in the mist of the south — the green slopes over the cliffs 
touched here and there with the brown of withered bracken — then 
down in the two valleys the leafless trees and gardens and cot- 
tages of Eglosilyan, the slates ordinarily shining wet with the 
rain. One day Wenna received a brief little letter from Mrs. Tre- 
lyon, who was at Mentone, and who said something about the 
balmy air, and the beautiful skies, and the blue water around her ; 
and the girl, looking out on the hard and stern features of this 
sombre coast, wondered how such things could be. 

Somehow there was so much ordinary and commonplace work 
to do that Wenna almost forgot that she was engaged ; and Mr. 
Roscorla, continually occupied with his new project, seldom cared' 
to remind her that they were on the footing of sweethearts. Their 
relations were of an eminently friendly character, but little more 
— in view of the forthcoming separation he scarcely thought it 
worth while to have them anything more. Sometimes he was in- 
clined to apologize to her for the absence of sentiment and ro- 
manticism which marked their intimacy ; but the more he saw of 
her the more he perceived that she did not care for that sort of 
thing, and was, indeed, about as anxious to avoid it as he was 
himself. She kept their engagement a secret. He once offered 
her his arm in going home from church ; she made some excuse, 
and he did not repeat the offer. When he came in of an evening 
to have a chat with George Rosewarne, they talked about the sub- 
jects of the day as they had been accustomed to do long before 
this engagement ; and Wenna sat and sewed in silence, or with- 
drew to a side-table to make up her account-books. Very rarely 
indeed — thanks to Miss Mabyn, whose hostilities had never ceased 
— had he a chance of seeing his betrothed alone, and then, some- 
how, their conversation invariably took a practical turn. It was 
not a romantic courtship. 

He considered her a very sensible girl. He was glad that his 
choice was approved by his reason. She was not beautiful ; but 
she had qualities that would last — intelligence, sweetness, and a 


A LEAVE-TAKING OF LOVERS. 


115 


sufficient fund of gentle humor to keep a man in good spirits. 
She was not quite in his own sphere of life ; but then, he argued 
with himself, a man ought always to marry a woman who is below 
him rather than above him — in social position, or in wealth, or in 
brain, or in all three — for then she is all the more likely to respect 
and obey him, and to be grateful to him. Now, if you do not 
happen to have won the deep and fervent love of a woman — a 
thing that seldom occurs — gratitude is a very good substitute. 
Mr. Roscorla was quite content. 

“Wenna,” said he, one day after they had got into the new 
year, and when one had begun to look forward to the first, indi- 
cations of spring in that southern county, “ the whole affair is 
now afloat, and it is time I should be too — forgive the profound 
witticism. Everything has been done out there ; we can do no 
more here ; and my partners think I should sail about the fifteenth 
of next month.” 

Was he asking her permission, or expecting some utterance of 
regret that he looked at her so ? She cast down her eyes, and said, 
rather timidly — 

“ I hope you will have a safe voyage — and be successful.” 

He was a little disappointed that she said nothing more ; but 
he himself immediately proceeded to deal with the aspects of the 
case in a most business-like manner. 

“ And then,” said he, “ I don’t want to put you to the pain of 
taking a formal and solemn farewell as the ship sails. One always 
feels downhearted in watching a ship go away, even though there 
is no reason. I must go to London in any case for a few days 
before sailing, and so I thought that if you wouldn’t mind coming 
as far as Launceston — with your mother or sister — you could drive 
back here without any bother.” 

“ If you do not think it unkind,” said Wenna, in a low voice, 
“ I should prefer that ; for I could not take mamma farther than 
Launceston, I think.” 

“ I shall never think anything you do unkind,” said he. “ I do 
not think you are capable of unkindness.” 

He wished at this moment to add something about her engaged 
ring, but could not quite muster up courage. He paused for a 
minute, and became embarrassed, and then told her what a first- 
class cabin to Jamaica would cost. 

And at length the day came round. The weather had been 


116 


THREE FEATHERS. 


bitterly cold and raw for the previous two or three weeks ; though 
it was March the world seemed still frozen in the grasp of winter. 
Early on this bleak and gray forenoon Mr. Roscorla walked down 
to the inn, and found the wagonette at the door. His luggage 
had been sent on to Southampton some days before; he was 
ready to start at once. 

Wenna was a little pale and nervous when she came out and 
got into the wagonette ; but she busied herself in wrapping abun- 
dant rugs and shawls around her mother, who protested against 
being buried alive. 

“ Good-bye,” said her father, shaking hands with Mr. Roscorla 
carelessly, “ I hope you’ll have a fine passage. Wenna, don’t for- 
get to ask for those cartridge-cases as you drive back from the 
station.” 

But Miss Mabyn’s method of bidding him farewell was far more 
singular. With an affectation of playfulness she offered him both 
her hands, and so, making quite sure that she had a grip on the 
left hand of that emerald ring that had afforded her much conso- 
lation, she said — 

“ Good-bye. I hope you will get safely out to Jamaica.” 

“And back again ?” said he, with a laugh. 

Mabyn said nothing, turned away, and pretended to be examin- 
ing the outlines of the wagonette. Nor did she speak again to 
any one until the small party drove away ; and then, when they 
had got over the bridge and along the valley, and up and over the 
hill, she suddenly ran to her father, flung her arms around his neck, 
kissed him, and cried out — 

“ Hurrah ! the horrid creature is gone, and he’ll never come back 
— never !” 

“ Mabyn,” said her father, in a peevish ill-temper, as he stooped 
to pick up the broken pipe which she had caused him to let fall, 
“ I wish you wouldn’t be such a fool.” 

But Mabyn was not to be crushed. She said, “Poor dadda, 
has it broken its pipe ?” and then she walked off, with her head 
very erect, and a very happy light on her face, while she sang to 
herself, after the manner of an acquaintance of hers, “ Oh, the men 
of merry, merry England !” 

There was less cheerfulness in that wagonette that was making 
its way across the bleak uplands — a black speck in the gray and 
wintry landscape. Wenna was really sorry that this long voyage, 


A LEAVE-TAKING OF LOVERS. 


117 


and all its cares and anxieties, should lie before one who had been 
so kind to her ; it made her miserable to think of his going away 
into strange lands all by himself, with little of the buoyancy and 
restlessness and ambition of youth to bear him up. As for him, 
he was chiefly occupied during this silent drive across to Launces- 
ton in nursing the fancy that he was going out to fight the world 
for her sake — as a younger man might have done — and that, if he 
returned successful, her gratitude would be added to the substan- 
tial results of his trip. It rather pleased him to imagine himself 
in this position. After all, he was not so very elderly ; and he 
was in very good preservation for his years. He was more than 
a match in physique, in hopefulness, and in a knowledge of the 
world that ought to stand him in good stead for many a young- 
er man who, with far less chances of success, was bent on making 
a fortune for the sake of some particular girl. 

He was not displeased to see that she was sorry about his going 
away. She would soon get over that. He had no wish that she 
should continually mope in his absence ; nor did he, indeed, be- 
lieve that any sensible girl would do anything of the sort. 

At the same time he had no fear whatever as to her remaining 
constant to him. A girl altogether out of the way of meeting 
marriageable young men would be under no temptation to let her 
fancies rove. Moreover, Wenna Rosewarne had something to 
gain in social position by her marriage with him, which she 
could not be so blind as to ignore ; and had she not, too, the in- 
ducement of waiting to see whether he might not bring back a 
fortune to her ? But the real cause of his trust in her was that 
experience of her uncompromising sincerity and keen sense of 
honor that he had acquired during a long and sufficiently inti- 
mate friendship. If the thought of her breaking her promise 
ever occurred to him, it was not as a serious possibility, but as an 
idle fancy, to be idly dismissed. 

“ You are very silent,” he said to her. 

“ I am sorry you are going away,” she said, simply and honest- 
ly ; and the admission pleased and flattered him. 

“ You don’t give me courage,” he said, laughingly. “ You ought 
to consider that I am going out into the world — even at my time 
of life — to get a lot of money and come back to make a grand 
lady of you.” 

“ Oh !” said she, in sudden alarm — for such a thought had never 


118 


THREE FEATHERS. 


entered her head — “ I hope you are not going away on my account. 
You know that I wish for nothing of that kind. I hope you did 
not consider me in resolving to go to Jamaica !” 

“ Well, of course I considered you,” said he, good-naturedly ; 
“ but don’t alarm yourself ; I should have gone if I had never seen 
you. But naturally I have an additional motive in going when I 
look at the future.” 

That was not a pleasant thought for Wenna Roscwarne. It 
was not likely to comfort her on stormy nights, when she might 
lie awake and think of a certain ship at sea. She had acquiesced 
in his going, as in one of those things which men do because they 
are men, and seem bound to satisfy their ambition with results 
which women might consider unnecessary. But that she should 
have exercised any influence on his decision — that alarmed her 
with a new sense of responsibility, and she began to wish that he 
could suddenly drop this project, have the wagonette turned 
around, and drive back to the quiet content and small economies 
and peaceful work of Eglosilyan. 

They arrived in good time at Launceston, and went for a stroll 
up to the fine old castle while luncheon was being got ready at 
the hotel. Wenna did not seem to regard that as a very enticing 
meal when they sat down to it. The talk was kept up chiefly by 
her mother and Mr. Roscorla, who spoke of life on shipboard, and 
the best means of killing the tedium of it. Mr. Roscorla said he 
would keep a journal all the time he was away, and send instal- 
ments from time to time to Wenna. 

They walked from the hotel down to the station. Just outside 
the station they saw a landau, drawn by a pair of beautiful grays, 
which were being walked up and down. 

“ Surely those are Mrs. Trelyon’s horses,” Wenna said ; and as 
the carriage, which was empty, came nearer, the coachman touched 
his hat. “ Perhaps she is coming back to the Hall to-day.” 

The words were uttered carelessly, for she was thinking of other 
things. When they at last stood on the platform, and Mr. Ros- 
corla had chosen his seat, he could see that she was paler than ever. 
He spoke in a light and cheerful way, mostly to her mother, until 
the guard requested him to get into the carriage, and then he turned 
to the girl and took her hand. 

“Good-bye, my dear Wenna,” said he. “God bless you! I 
hope you will write to me often.” 


A LEAVE-TAKING OF LOVERS. 


119 


Then he kissed her cheek, shook hands with her again, and got 
into the carriage. She had not spoken a word. Her lips were 
trembling — she could not speak — and he saw it. 

When the train went slowly out of the station, Wenna stood 
and looked after it with something of a mist before her eyes, until 
she could see nothing of the handkerchief that was being waved 
from one of the carriage windows. She stood quite still, until her 
mother put her hand on her shoulder, and then she turned and 
walked away with her. They had not gone three yards when 
they were met by a tall young man who had come rushing down 
the hill and through the small station-house. 

“ By Jove !” said he, “ I am just too late. How do you do, Mrs. 
Rosewarne? How are you, Wenna?” — and then he paused, and 
a great blush overspread his face — for the girl looked up at him 
and took his hand silently, and he could see there were tears in 
her eyes. It occurred to him that he had no business there — 
and yet he had come on an errand of kindness. So he said, with 
some little embarrassment, to Mrs. Rosewarne — 

“ I heard you were coming over to this train, and I was afraid 
you would find the dfive back in the wagonette rather cold this 
evening. I have got our landau outside — closed, you know — and 
I thought you might let me drive you over.” 

Mrs. Rosewarne looked at her daughter. Wenna decided all 
such things, and the girl said to him, in a low voice — 

“ It is very kind of you.” 

“ Then just give me a second, that I may tell your man,” Tre- 
lyon said, and off he darted. 

Was it his respect for Wenna’s trouble, or had it been his knock* 
ing about among strangers for six months, that seemed to have 
given to the young man (at least in Mrs. Rosewarne’s eyes) some- 
thing of a more courteous and considerate manner? When the 
three of them were being rapidly whirled along the Launceston 
highway in Mrs. Trelyon’s carriage, Harry Trelyon was evidently 
bent on diverting Wenna’s thoughts from her present cares ; and 
he told stories and asked questions, and related his recent advent- 
ures in such a fashion that the girl’s face gradually lightened, 
and she grew interested and pleased. She, too, thought he was 
much improved — how she could not exactly tell. 

“ Come,” said he, at last, “ you must not be very downhearted 
about a mere holiday trip. You will soon get letters, you know, 


120 


THREE FEATHERS. 


telling you all about the strange places abroad ; and then, before 
you know where you are, you’ll have to drive over to the station, 
as you did to-day, to meet Mr. Roscorla coming back.” 

“ It may be a very long time indeed,” Wenna said ; “ and if he 
should come to any harm I shall know that I was the cause of it ; 
for if it had not been for me, I don’t believe he would have gone.” 

“ Oh, that is quite absurd ! — begging your pardon,” said Master 
Harry, coolly. “ Roscorla got a chance of making some money, 
and he took it, as any other man would. You had no more to do 
with it than I had — indeed, I had something to do with it — but 
that’s a secret. No; don’t you make any mistake about that. 
And he’ll be precious well off when he’s out there, and seeing 
everything going on smoothly, especially when he gets a letter 
from you, with a Cornish primrose or violet in it. And you’ll 
get that soon now,” he added quickly, seeing that Wenna blushed 
somewhat ; “ for I fancy there’s a sort of smell in the air this af- 
ternoon that means spring-time. I think the wind has been get- 
ting round to the west all day ; before night you will find a dif- 
ference in the air, I can tell you.” 

“I think it has become very fresh and* mild already,” Wenna 
said, judging by an occasional breath of wind that came in at the 
top of the windows. 

“ Do you think you could bear the landau open ?” said he, ea- 
gerly. 

When they stopped to try — when they opened the windows — 
the predictions of the weather prophet had already been fulfilled, 
and a strange, genial mildness and freshness pervaded the air. 
They were now near Eglosilyan, on the brow of a hill, and away 
below them they could see the sea lying dull and gray under the 
cloudy sky. But while they waited for the coachman to uncover 
the landau, a soft and yellow light began to show itself far out 
in the west, a break appeared in the clouds, and a vast comb of 
gold shot shining down on the plain of water beneath. The west- 
ern skies were opening up ; and what with this new and beautiful 
light, and what with the sweet air that awoke a thousand pleasant 
and pathetic memories, it seemed to Wenna Rosewarne that the 
tender spring-time was at length at hand, with all its wonder of 
yellow crocuses and pale snowdrops, and the first faint shimmer- 
ings of green on the hedges and woods. Her eyes filled with 
tears — she knew not why. Surely she was not old enough to 


THE FAIR SPRING-TIME. 


121 


know anything of the sadness that comes to some when the heav- 
ens are cleared, and a new life stirs in the trees, and the world 
awakes to the fairness of the spring. She was only eighteen ; she 
had a lover ; and she was as certain of his faithfulness as of her 
own. 

In bidding them good-bye at the door of the inn, Mr. Harry 
Trelyon told them that he meant to remain in Eglosilyan for 
some months to come. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

THE FAIR SPRING-TIME. 

The spring-time had indeed arrived — rapidly and impercepti- 
bly ; and all at once it seemed as if the world had grown green, 
and the skies fair and clear, and the winds sweet with a new and 
delightful sweetness. Each morning that Wenna went out brought 
some further wonder with it — along the budding hedgerows, in 
the colors of the valley, in the fresh warmth of the air, and the 
white light of the skies. And at last the sea began to show its 
deep and resplendent summer blue, when the morning happened 
to he still, and there was a silvery haze along the coast. 

“Mabyn, is your sister at home? And do you think she could 
go up to the Hall for a little while, for my mother wants to see 
her? And do you think she would walk around by the cliffs — 
for it is such a capital morning — if you came with her ?” 

“ Oh yes, Mr. Trelyon,” said Mabyn, readily, and with far more 
respect and courtesy than she usually showed to the young gen- 
tleman, “ I am quite sure Wenna can go; and I know she would 
like to walk around by the cliffs — she is always glad to do that — 
and I will tell her to get ready instantly. But I can’t go, Mr. Tre- 
lyon — I am exceedingly busy this morning.” 

“ Why, you have been reading a novel !” 

“ But I am about to be exceedingly busy,” said Mabyn, petu- 
lantly. “You can’t expect people to be always working and — 
I tell you I can’t go with you, Mr. Trelyon.” 

“ Oh, very well,” said he, carelessly ; “ you needn’t show your 
temper.” 


122 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ My temper !” said Mabyn ; but then recollecting herself, and 
smiling derisively, went away to fetch her sister. 

When Wenna came outside into the white sunlight, and went 
forward to shake hands with him, with her dark eyes lit up by 
a friendly smile, it seemed to him that not for many a day — not 
certainly during all the time of her engagement with Mr. Roscorla 
— had he seen her look so pleased, happy, and contented. She 
still bore that quiet gravity of demeanor which had made him call 
her the little Puritan, and there was the same earnestness in her 
eyes as they regarded any one ; but there was altogether a bright- 
er aspect about her face that pleased him exceedingly. For he 
was very well disposed to this shy and yet matter-of-fact young 
lady, and was alternately amused by the quaintness of her moth- 
erly ways in dealing with the people about her, and startled into 
admiration by some sudden glimpse of the fine sincerity of her 
nature. He had done more to please her — he had gone to church 
several times, and tried to better his handwriting, and resolved to 
be more careful in speaking of parsons in her presence — than he 
ever thought he could have done to please any woman. 

So these two set forth on this bright and cheerful morning; 
and one would have said, to see them as they went, that two hap- 
pier young folks were not within the county of Cornwall at that 
moment. Wenna had a pleasant word for every one that passed ; 
and when they had gone by the mill, and reached the narrow 
path by the tiny harbor, where no more neighbors were to be 
seen, she appeared to transfer her abounding sympathy to all the 
objects around her, and she spoke to them and laughed to them, 
so that all the world seemed to be friendly with her. Her sister 
used to say that her fingers tingled to the very tips with kindness ; 
and at this moment she seemed as though she could have kissed 
her hand to all the birds and animals around, and wished them 
joy that they had so fine a morning. 

“ Ho, ho ! Mr. Porpoise,” she laughed and said, as she saw far 
below her a big fish slowly heel over in the blue water of the har- 
bor ; “ don’t you come too far up, or you won’t like the stones in 
the stream, I know !” 

There was a hawk hovering high in the air over Blackcliff — 
Trelyon was watching it keenly. 

“ Oh, go away, you bad bird,” she cried, “ and let the poor 
little things alone !” And, sure enough, at this moment the mo- 


THE FAIR SPRING-TIME. 


123 


tionless speck up there began to flutter its wings, and presently it 
sailed away over the cliff and was seen no more. 

“ Mother Sheep,” she said to the inattentive custodian of two 
very small lambs with very thick legs and uncertain gait, “ why 
don’t you look after your children ? you’ll have them tumbling 
down the rocks into the sea in about a minute — that’s about what 
you’ll do !” 

“ Boom !” she said to a great humble-bee that flew heavily by ; 
and to a white butterfly that went this way and that over the 
warm grass on the hill-side she called out, “ My pretty lady, aren’t 
you glad the summer is coming ?” 

She talked to the white and gray gulls that were wheeling over 
the sea, and to the choughs flying hither and thither about the 
steep precipices of the cliff. They did not answer her ; but that 
was no matter. From her childhood she had believed that she 
knew them all, and that they knew her ; and that even the cliffs 
and the sea and the clouds regarded her, and spoke to her in a 
strange and silent fashion. Once she had come back from the 
mouth of the harbor on a sultry afternoon, when as yet the neigh- 
bors had heard nothing of the low mutterings of the distant and 
coming storm ; and when her mother asked the child why she 
was so silent, she said, “ I have been listening to God walking on 
the sea.” 

Well, they sat down on a seat which fronted the wide opening 
in the cliffs and the great plain of the Atlantic beyond, that was 
this morning of a light and sunny sea-green, with here and there 
broad purple stains of shadow as the summer clouds passed rap- 
idly over the sky from the west. In the warm sunshine, the gorse 
on the hill behind them and the grass on the pasture-land sweet- 
ened the air. The wind blew fresh in from the sea ; and as the 
green waves broke white along the rocks beneath them, the brisk 
breeze carried with it a flavor of salt from the fine clouds of the 
spray. The spring-time seemed to have given life and color to 
the sea as well as to the land, for all the world was brilliant with 
the new brightness of the skies. 

“And isn’t it first-rate,” said Master Harry, wishing to say 
something very pleasant to his companion, “ that Mr. Roscorla is 
having such fine weather on his way out ? I am sure you would 
have been very anxious if there had been any storms about. I 
hope he will be successful ; he’s a good sort of fellow.” 


124 


THREE FEATHERS. 


No one who was not acquainted with this young gentleman 
could have guessed at the dire effort he had to make in order to 
pronounce these few sentences. He was not accustomed to say 
formally civil things. He was very bad at paying compliments ; 
and as for saying anything friendly of Mr. Roscorla, he had to do 
it with a mental grimace. But Wenna was very familiar with 
the lad and his ways. At another time she would have been 
amused and pleased to observe his endeavors to be polite ; and 
now, if she hastened away from the subject, it was only because 
she never heard Mr. Roscorla’ s name mentioned without feeling 
embarrassment and showing it. She murmured something about 
a hope that Mr. Roscorla would not find the voyage to Jamaica 
fatiguing ; and then, somewhat hastily, drew her companion’s at- 
tention to another porpoise which was showing itself from time 
to time outside the rocks. 

“ I wish Roscorla had made me your guardian in his absence,” 
said this blundering young man, who was determined to be on his 
best behavior. “ I quite agree with Mabyn that you overwork 
yourself in doing for other people what the lazy beggars ought to 
do for themselves. Oh, I know more than you think. I’d wake 
some of them up if I had the chance. Why, they look on you 
as a sort of special Providence, bound to rescue them at any mo- 
ment. I was told only yesterday of old Mother Truscott having 
said to a neighbor, ‘ Well, if Miss Wenna won’t help me, then the 
Lord’s will be done.’ ” 

“ Oh yes, I know,” said his companion, with some impatience ; 
“ she is always saying that. I said to her the other day, when I 
got out of temper, ‘ Why, of course the Lord’s will will be done ; 
you don’t suppose he wants your permission ? But if you’d only 
look after your own house, and bestir yourself, and keep it smart, 
your husband wouldn’t go on as he does.’ There’s nothing I 
hate worse than that sort of pretended piety. Why, when Abia- 
thar Annot’s boy died, I thought he’d be out of his senses with 
grief, and I went up to see if he was all right about the house, 
and to say a friendly word to him ; and directly I went into the 
house he said to me, quite complacently, ‘ Well, Miss Rosewarne, 
you know we must bow to the will of the Lord, and accept his 
chastenings as mercies.’ ‘ Oh,’ said I, ‘ if you take it that way, 
I’ve no more to say ;’ and I left the place. I don’t believe in all 
that sort of — ” 


THE FAIR SPRING-TIME. 


125 


She suddenly stopped, recollecting to whom she was speaking. 
Were these proper confessions to be made to a young man who 
had such a godless hatred of parsons and churches and all good 
things ; and whose conversion to more respectable ways she had 
many a time wished to attempt? She dropped that subject ; and 
Master Harry was so resolved to be proper and virtuous that morn- 
ing that he took no advantage of what she had said. He even, 
in an awkward fashion, observed that all pious people were not 
hypocrites ; one had to draw distinctions. Of course there were 
pious people who were really sincere. He hoped Miss Wenna 
would not suspect him of being so prejudiced as not to know 
that. Miss Wenna was a little inclined to smile, but she con- 
trolled her lips ; and Master Harry, having paid these ingenuous 
compliments to virtue and religion, rose with a frank sigh of re- 
lief, proposed that they should continue their walk up the hill, 
and was soon engaged in telling her — with a much gayer tone in 
his voice and with a return to his old impertinent carelessness — 
of some wild adventure in cliff-hunting which he and his faithful 
Dick had encountered together. 

They seemed to be in no great hurry, these two. It was a 
morning that invited to idleness. They chatted about all sorts 
of things, or were silent, with equal and happy indifference : he 
watching the sea-birds, she stooping from time to time to pick up 
some tiny flower of pale yellow or purple. In this fashion they 
made their way up to the summit of the cliffs, and there before 
them lay the great plain of the windy sea, and the long wall of 
precipice running down into the southwest, and the high and 
bleak uplands, marked by the square towers of small and distant 
churches. They struck across the fields to one of those churches 
— that which Master Harry had been persuaded to visit. The 
place was now silent enough : two jackdaws sat on the slender 
weathercock ; the sunlight was warm on the silvery gray tower, 
and on the long green grass in the churchyard, in which the first 
daisies of the spring had appeared. Then they went down through 
some narrow lanes towards the higher portion of Eglosilyan ; and 
under the hedges were masses of pale primroses, and the purple 
blossoms of the ground-ivy, and the golden stars of the celandine. 
They drew near some of the cottages ; and in the gardens the 
flowering currant was in bloom, and everywhere there was a scent 
of wallflower. They crossed the main thoroughfare of the vil- 


126 


THREE FEATHERS. 


lage ; it was empty but for the presence of a small boy, who, with 
a slate slung on one side and a bag made of carpet slung on the 
other, had apparently been sent home from school for some reason 
or other. The youthful scholar most respectfully took off his cap 
to Miss Wenna as she gave him a kindly greeting in passing. 

“ They say all that is owing to you,” Trelyon remarked. 

“ All what ?” 

“ The good manners of the people in this village. The women 
bob you a curtsy as you pass, the girls say good-morning or good- 
evening, the boys take off their caps, even if you are a perfect 
stranger. But you don’t suppose that happens in every village in 
Cornwall? My mother was speaking about it only this morn- 
ing.” 

Wenna was sufficiently surprised to know that she had got the 
credit of the courtesy shown to strangers by the Eglosilyan folks ; 
but even more surprised to learn that Master Harry had deigned 
to engage in conversation with his mother. He also seemed to 
be taking his first lessons in civility. 

“ Oh,” she said, “ that boy ought to pay me every attention to 
make up for his bad conduct. He was once a sweetheart of mine, 
and he deceived me. He sold me for sixpence.” 

She sighed. 

“ It is true. He adopted me as his sweetheart, and every time 
I saw him he promised to marry me when he grew up. But there 
came a change. He avoided me, and I had to catch him, and ask 
him why. He confessed. I wasn’t his sweetheart any more. His 
elder brother, aged ten, I think, had also wanted me for a sweet- 
heart, and he had a sixpence ; and sixpence was the price of a 
new sort of spinning-top that had just been put into the window 
at the Post-office ; and the elder brother proposed to the younger 
brother to take the sixpence and buy the top, and hand me over. 

‘ So yti baint my sweetheart anny mower,’ said that young gentle- 
man, forgetting his good English in his grief. But I think he 
has a tender recollection of me even now.” 

“ I’d have thrashed the little brute for his meanness, if I had 
been you,” said her companion, in his off-hand way. 

“ Oh no,” she answered, with a meek sarcasm ; “ wasn’t he only 
doing as a child what grown-up gentlemen are said to do ? When 
there is money on the one hand and a sweetheart on the other, is 
not the sweetheart ordinarily thrown over ?” 


THE FAIR SPRING-TIME. 


127 


“ What can you know about it ?” he said, bluntly. “ In any 
case, you don’t run any danger. Mr. Roscorla is not likely to be 
tempted by bags of gold.” 

Mr. Roscorla — always Mr. Roscorla. Wenna, who crimsoned 
deeply at the slightest reference to the relations between herself 
and her absent lover, began to be somewhat angry with this 
thoughtless lad, who would continually introduce the name. What 
was his object in doing so ? To show her that he never failed to 
remember her position, and that that was his excuse for talking 
very frankly to her, as he would have done to a sister ? Or mere- 
ly to please her by speaking of one who ought to be very dear to 
her ? She was not indebted to him for this blundering effort of 
kindness; and on any less cheerful morning might have visited 
him with one of those fits of formal politeness or of constrained 
silence with which young ladies are accustomed to punish too for- 
ward acquaintances. 

But Miss Wenna had it not in her heart to be reserved on this 
pleasant forenoon ; she good-naturedly overlooked the pertina- 
cious mistakes of her companion ; and talked to him — and to the 
flowers and birds and trees around her — with a happy careless- 
ness, until the two of them together made their way up to the 
Hall. Just as Master Harry opened the gate at the end of the 
avenue, and turned to let her through, he seemed for the first time 
to notice her dress. He made no scruple of stopping her for a 
moment to look at it. 

“ Oh, I say, I wish you could get my mother to dress like you !” 

The burst of admiration was so genuine that Miss Wenna — 
being only a girl — was very much pleased indeed ; and blushed a 
little, and would rather have passed on. There was nothing, in- 
deed, remarkable about her costume — about the rough light gray 
dress with its touches here and there of blue, nor yet about the 
white hat with its forget-me-nots and big white daisies — except 
that it seemed to fit well a very pretty figure, and also that the 
blue suited the dark and clear complexion and the dark eyes and 
hair. 

“ I’m sick of her stalking about the house in the guise of a 
ghost — she all white, everything else black. I say, Wenna, don’t 
you think you could get her to dress like a human being ?” 

“ But if it is her wish, you ought to respect it.” 

“ It’s only a craze,” he said, impatiently. 


THREE FEATHERS. 


128 ‘ 

“ It may seem so to you,” liis companion said ; “ but she has 
her own reasons for it, and they deserve your sympathy, even 
though they may not convince you. And you ought not to speak 
in that harsh way of one who is so very good and gentle, and 
who is so considerate towards you.” 

“ Oh, you always find excuses for people,” he said, roughly. 
“ Everybody should be considered and respected, and have their 
fine feelings praised and coddled, according to you. Everybody 
is perfect, according to you.” 

“ Oh dear, no,” she said, quite humbly. “ I know one or two 
people whose conduct and habits, and their manners, too, might 
be very much improved indeed.” 

“I suppose you mean me?” he said. 

“ And if I did ?” she said, boldly. “ Don’t you think, when 
you want your mother to be just as you would have her to be, 
that she might turn around and say that there was a great deal 
more in you that she might wish to have altered ? You know her 
manner of life is not necessarily wrong merely because you can’t 
understand it. As for yours — ” 

“ Go ahead !” he cried, with a loud and suddenly good-natured 
laugh. “Heap up all my sins on my head! I’m getting used 
to be lectured now. Please, Miss Puritan, would you like me to 
get a surplice and come and sing hymns in the choir ?” 

Miss Puritan did not answer. There was no look of annoyance 
on her face — only a certain calm reserve that told her companion 
that he had somehow wounded the friendly confidence that had 
sprung up between them during this pleasant morning ramble. 
And at this moment they reached the front of the Hall, where 
Mrs. Trelyon came forward to greet her visitor ; so that Master 
Harry had no further opportunity just then of asking her whether 
he had offended her, and of making an apology. He listened for 
a few minutes to his mother talking to Wenna about that Sewing 
Club. He became impatient with himself, and vexed, for Wenna 
seemed in nowise to recognize his presence ; and of course his 
mother did not ask his advice about the purchase of flannel. He 
tossed about the books on the table; he teased an Angola cat 
that was lying before the fire until it tried to bite him, and then 
he put its nose into the water of a flower-vase. With the feather 
of a quill dipped in ink he drew a fox on one of the white tiles 
of the fireplace ; and then he endeavored to remove that work ot 


ONLY A BASKET OF PRIMROSES. 


129 


art with the edge of a scarlet-and-gold footstool. These various 
occupations affording him no relief, he got up, stretched his legs, 
and said to his mother — 

“ Mother, you keep her here for lunch. I shall be back at 
two.” 

“Oh, but I can’t stay so long,” Wenna said, suddenly; “I 
know I shall be wanted at home.” 

“ Oh no, you won’t,” the young gentleman said, coolly ; “ I know 
you won’t. Mabyn told me so. Besides, I am going down now 
to tell them you will be back at four.” 

And so he went away, but his walk down to the inn was not as 
pleasant as that roundabout ramble up to the Hall had been. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

ONLY A BASKET OF PRIMROSES. 

“ What a busy life you must lead !” said Mrs. Trelyon, look- 
ing with a gentle wonder at the young lady before her. “You 
seem to know how to do anything.” 

Miss Wenna colored a little, and said something about having 
had to help her mother for many years past. 

“ And such a knowledge of the world as you have !” Mrs. Tre- 
lyon continued, unconsciously staring at the girl as if she were 
some strange phenomenon. “ Where did you get it ?” 

“That I am sure I have not got,” Wenna said, brightening con- 
siderably, “ for the strangers who come to the inn of course don’t 
speak to me, except one or two of the very old ladies sometimes, 
and all they speak about is the scenery. But Mabyn and 3 read 
the remarks in the Visitors’ Book, and these are very amusing, 
especially the poetry that the young gentlemen write ; and, in- 
deed, Mrs. Trelyon, if one were to judge by that book, one would 
think that the world was very silly. The elderly gentlemen gen- 
erally praise the cooking; the elderly ladies generally say some- 
thing nice about the cleanliness of the bedrooms and the good 
attendance ; and the young ladies write about anything, recom- 
mending other visitors to go to particular places, or saying what 
they think of the Cornish peasantry. I am sure they are all very 
9 


130 


THREE FEATHERS. 


good-natured to us, and say very nice things of the inn ; hut then 
it looks so silly. And the young gentlemen are far the worst — 
especially the University young gentlemen, for they write such 
stupid poetry and make such bad jokes. I suppose it is that the 
fresh air gives them very good spirits, and they don’t care what 
they say, and they never expect that their friends will see what 
they have written. I have noticed, though, that the walking 
gentlemen never write such things when they are leaving, for 
they are always too anxious about the number of miles they have 
to get over oh that day, and they are always anxious, too, about 
the heels of their stockings. If you would like to see the book — ” 

Wenna stopped. Mrs. Trelyon had been very good in extend- 
ing a sort of acquaintance to her, and now proposed to help her 
in a way with her work. But she was going too far in expecting 
that this reserved and silent lady should become a visitor at the 
inn, or interest herself in its commonplace affairs. At this mo- 
ment, indeed, Mrs. Trelyon was so very much reserved that she did 
not notice either Wenna’s tentative invitation or her embarrass- 
ment when she cut it short. 

“ I wish,” she said, absently, showing what she had been think- 
ing about — “I wish you could get Harry to go to one of the 
Universities.” 

It was now Wenna’s turn to stare. Did the mother of that 
young gentleman seriously think that this stranger-girl had such 
an influence over him ? 

“ Oh, Mrs. Trelyon,” Wenna said, “ how could I — ?” 

“ He would do anything for you,” the gentle lady said, with 
much simplicity and honesty. “ He pays no attention to any- 
thing 1 say to him ; but he would do anything for you. His 
whole manner changes when you are in the house. I think you 
are the only person in the world he is afraid of. And it was so 
good of you to get him to go to church.” 

“Iam sure it was not I,” said Wenna, getting rather afraid. 

“ But I know,” said Mrs. Trelyon, quite affectionately, “ for I 
have seen everybody else try and fail. You see, my dear, you are 
in a peculiar position. You are young, and a pleasant companion 
for a young man ; and as you are no relation of his, he is cour- 
teous to you. And then, you see, your being engaged to be mar- 
ried enables him to speak freely to you and treat you as a friend ; 
and I think, besides, you have acquired some means of keeping 


ONLY A BASKET OF PRIMROSES. 


131 


him in check, and having authority over him, and I am sure he 
would do more for you than for any one I know. As for me, I 
have never had any control over him ; but be is at least civil to 
me when you are in the room.” 

Wenna rose. 

“ Mrs. Trelyon,” she said, “ don’t you think it is a pity to stay 
indoors on such a beautiful morning ? The air is quite mild and 
warm outside.” 

She was glad to get out. There was something in this decla- 
ration of her responsibility for the young man’s conduct which 
considerably startled and frightened her. It was all very well for 
her to administer an occasional sharp reproof to him when he was 
laughing and joking with herself and Mabyn ; but to become the 
recognized monitress of so wild a pupil as Master Harry — to have 
his own mother appeal to her — that was quite a different affair. 
And on this occasion, when Mrs. Trelyon had got a shawl and 
come outside with her guest, all her talk was about her son, and 
his ways and his prospects. It was very clear that, with all her 
lamentations over his conduct, Mrs. Trelyon was very fond of the 
young man, and was quite assured, too, that he had the brains to 
do anything he might be induced to undertake. Wenna listened 
in a vague way to all these complaints and speculations and covert 
praises ; she did not find her position so embarrassing in the open 
air as in that close drawing-room. They walked through the leafy 
alleys of the garden, unconsciously regarding the beautiful color 
of the new spring flowers, and listening to the larks singing high 
up in the blue. From time to time, as they turned, they caught 
a glimpse of hills all ablaze with gorse; and near the horizon a 
long line of pale azure with a single white ship visible in the haze. 
On the other side of the valley a man was harrowing ; they could 
hear him calling to the horses, and the jingling of the chains. 
Then there was the murmur of the stream far below, where the 
sunlight just caught the light green of the larches. These, and 
the constant singing of the birds around them, were the only 
sounds that accompanied their talk, as they wandered this way 
and that, by brilliant garden-plots or through shaded avenues, 
where the air was sweet with the fresh scents of the opening 
summer. 

And at last they came back to the proposal that Wenna should 
try to persuade Master Harry to go to Oxford or Cambridge. 


132 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ But, Mrs. Trelyon,” the girl said earnestly, “ I am quite sure 
you mistake altogether my relations with your son. I could not 
presume to give him advice. It would not be my place to do so 
even if we were on the footing of friends, and that, at present, is 
out of the question. Don’t you see, Mrs. Trelyon, that because 
Mr. Trelyon in coming about the inn was good-natured enough to 
make the acquaintance of my father and to talk to us girls, it 
would not do for any of us to forget how we are situated? I 
don’t anyway — perhaps because I am proud — but, at all events, 
I should not presume on Mr. Trelyon’s good-nature. Don’t you 
see, Mrs. Trelyon ?” 

“ I see that you are a very practical and sensible and plain- 
spoken young lady,” her companion said, regarding her with a 
kindly look, “ but I think you don’t do my son justice. It is not 
thoughtlessness that made him make your acquaintance. I don’t 
think he ever did a more prudent thing in his life before. And 
then, dear Miss Rosewarne, you must remember — if I may speak 
of such a thing — that you will soon be the wife of one of the very 
few friends we have about here; and you must excuse us if we 
claim you as a friend already, and try to take advantage of your 
friendship. Now, do you see that ?” 

Wenna was not persuaded; but she was, at all events, very 
pleased to see that occasionally Mrs. Trelyon could forget her 
brooding, sentimental fancies, and become comparatively bright 
and talkative. 

“ Now will you say a word to him when he comes home for 
lunch ?” 

“ Oh no, I can’t do that, Mrs. Trelyon,” Wenna said; “ it would 
be quite rude of me to do that. Besides, if you would not be dis- 
pleased with me, Mrs. Trelyon, for saying so, I don’t think going 
to a University would do him any good. I don’t think — I hope 
you won’t be vexed with me — that he has had sufficient school- 
ing. And isn’t there an examination before you could get in? 
Well, I don’t know about that ; but I am quite sure that if he did 
get in, he would be too proud to put himself in competition with 
the other young men who were properly prepared for study, and 
he would take to boating or cricket, or some such thing. Now 
don’t you think, Mrs. Trelyon, he would be as well occupied in 
amusing himself here, where you might gradually get him to take 
an interest in something besides shooting and fishing ? He knows 


ONLY A BASKET OF PRIMROSES. 


133 


far more things than most people fancy, I know that. My father 
says he, is very clever, and can pick up anything you tell him ; 
and that he knows more about the management of an estate, and 
about the slate quarries, and about mining too, than people imag- 
ine. And as for me,” added the girl bravely, “ I will say this, 
that I think him very clever indeed, and that he will make a 
straightforward and honorable man, and I should like to see him 
in Parliament, where he would be able to hold his own, I know.” 

“ Oh, my dear !” exclaimed Mrs. Trelyon, with a joyful face, “ I 
am so grateful to you. I am so proud to know you think so 
highly of him. And won’t you say a word to him ? He will do 
whatever you please.” 

But Miss Wenna had somehow been startled into that confes- 
sion, and the sudden burst of honesty left her considerably ashamed 
and embarrassed. She would not promise to intermeddle in the 
matter, whatever she had been induced to say about the future of 
the young man. She stooped to pick up a flower to cover her 
confusion, and then she asked Mrs. Trelyon to be good enough to 
excuse her staying to lunch. 

“ Oh no, I dare not do that,” Mrs. Trelyon said ; “ Harry would 
pull the house down when he found I had let you go. You know 
we have no visitors at present, and it will be such a pleasure to 
have him lunch with me; he seldom does, and never at all if 
there are visitors. But really, Miss Rosewarne, it is so inconsider- 
ate of me to talk always of him, as if you were as much interest- 
ed as myself. Why, the whole morning we have not said a word 
about you and all you are looking forward to. I hope you will 
be happy. I am sure you will be, for you have such a sensible 
way of regarding things, and all is sure to go well. I must say 
that I thought Harry was a little more mad than usual when he 
first told me about that money ; but now I know you, I am very, 
very glad indeed, and very pleased that I could be of some little 
service to Mr. Roscorla for your sake.” 

The girl beside her did not understand ; she looked up with 
wondering eyes. 

“What money, Mrs. Trelyon ?” 

“ I mean the money that Harry got for Mr. Roscorla — the mon- 
ey, you know, for these Jamaica estates ; is it possible Mr. Roscorla 
did not tell you before he left ?” 

“ I don’t know anything about it, Mrs. Trelyon, and I hope you 


134 


THREE FEATHERS. 


will tell me at once,” Wenna said, with some decision in her tone, 
but with a strange sinking at her heart. 

“ You don’t know, then ?” Mrs. Trelyon said, with a sudden fear 
that she had been indiscreet. “.Oh, it is nothing, a mere business 
arrangement. Of course, gentlemen don’t care to have these things 
talked over. I hope you won’t mention it, dear Miss Rosewarne ; 
I really thought you might have overheard them speaking of the 
matter.” 

Wenna said nothing. The soft dark eyes looked a little troubled, 
but that was all. And presently up came young Trelyon, full of 
good spirits and noise and bustle ; and he drove his mother and 
Wenna before him into the house ; and hurried up the servants, 
and would open the wine himself. His mother checked him for 
whistling at luncheon ; his reply was to toss the leg of a fowl on 
to the hearthrug, where a small and shaggy terrier immediately 
began to worry it. He put the Angola cat on the table to see if 
it would eat some Cornish cream off his plate. His pigeons got 
to know of his being in the house, and came flying about the 
windows and walking jerkingly over the lawn ; he threw up the 
windows and flung them a couple of handfuls of crumbs. 

“ Oh, Miss Wenna,” said he, “ would you like to see my tame 
fox ? I am sure you would. Mather, you cut round to the sta- 
bles and tell old Luke to bring that fox here — off you go — leave 
the claret this side.” 

“ But I do not wish to see the fox ; I particularly dislike foxes,” 
said Wenna, with some asperity ; and Mather was recalled. 

Master Harry grinned to himself ; it was the first time he had 
been able to get her to speak to him. From the beginning of 
luncheon she had sat almost silent, observing his vagaries and lis- 
tening to his random talk in silence ; when she spoke it was always 
in answer to his mother. Very soon after luncheon she begged 
Mrs. Trelyon to excuse her going away ; and then she went and 
put on her hat. 

“ I’ll see you down to the inn,” said Master Harry, when she 
came out to the hall-door. 

“ Thank you, it is quite unnecessary,” she said, somewhat cold- 

iy- 

“ Oh,” said he, “ you may be as nasty as you please, but I shall 
conquer you by my extreme politeness.” 

At another time she would have laughed at the notion of this 


ONLY A BASKET OF PRIMROSES. 


135 


young gentleman complimenting himself on his politeness ; now, 
as she walked quietly down the gravelled path to the gate, she 
was very grave, and, indeed, took no notice of his presence. 

“ Wenna,” said he, after he had shut the gate and rejoined her, 
“ is it fair to make such a fuss about a chance word ? I think you 
are very hard. I did not mean to offend you.” 

“ You have not offended me, Mr. Trelyon.” 

“ Then why do you look so — so uncomfortable ?” 

She made no answer. 

“ Now, look here, do be reasonable. Are you vexed because I 
called you Wenna? Or is it because I spoke about singing in the 
choir ?” 

“ No,” she said, simply, “ I was not thinking of anything of that 
kind ; and I am not vexed.” 

“ Then what is the matter ?” 

For another second or two she was silent, apparently from ir- 
resolution ; then she suddenly stopped in the middle of the road, 
and confronted him. “ Mr. Trelyon,” she said, “ is it true that 
you have given Mr. Roscorla money, and on my account?” 

“ No, it is not,” he said, considerably startled by her tone ; 
“I lent him some money — the money he wanted to take to Ja- 
maica.” 

“ And what business had you to do anything of the sort ?” she 
said, with the shame in her heart lending a strangely unusual 
sharpness to her voice. 

“ Well,” said the young man, quite humbly, “ I thought it would 
be a service both to you and to him ; and that there was no harm 
in it. If he succeeds, he will pay me back. It was precious silly 
of him to tell you anything about it; but still, Miss Wenna — you 
must see — now don’t be unreasonable — what harm could there be 
in it ?” 

She stood before him, her eyes cast down, her pale face a trifle 
flushed, and her hands clasped tight. 

“ How much was it ?” she said, in a low voice. 

“ Now, now, now,” he said, in a soothing way, “ don’t you 
make a fuss about it ; it is a business transaction ; men often lend 
money to each other — what a fool he must have been to have — I 
beg your pardon — ” and then he stopped, frowning at his own 
stupidity. 

“ How much was it?” 


136 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Well, if you must know, five thousand pounds.” 

“ Five thousand pounds !” she repeated, absently. “ I am sure 
my father has not so much money. But I will bid you good-bye 
now, Mr. Trelyon.” 

And she held out her hand. 

“ Mayn’t I walk down with you to the village ?” said he, look- 
ing rather crestfallen. 

“ No, thank you,” she said, quietly, and then she went away. 

Well, he stood looking after her for a few seconds. Now that 
her back was turned to him and she was going away, there was no 
longer any brightness in the fresh spring woods, nor any color in 
the clear skies overhead. She had been hard on him, he felt; 
and yet there was no anger or impatience in his heart, only a 
vague regret that somehow he had wounded her, and that they 
were no longer good friends. He stood so for a minute or two, 
and then he suddenly set out to overtake her. She turned slight- 
ly just as he had got up. 

“ Miss Wenna,” he said, rather shamefacedly, “ I forgot to ask 
you whether you would mind calling in at Mrs. Luke’s as you go 
by. There is a basket of primroses there for you. I set the 
children to gather them about an hour ago ; I thought you would 
like them.” 

She said she would ; and then he raised his cap to her — looked 
at her just for one moment — and turned and walked away. Wen- 
na called for the basket, and a very fine basket of flowers it was, 
for Mrs. Luke said that Master Harry had given the children six- 
pence apiece to gather the finest primroses they could get, and 
every one knows what Cornish primroses are. Wenna took away 
the flowers, not paying any particular attention to them, and it 
was only when she got into her own room — and when she felt 
very much inclined to sit down and cry — that she noticed lying 
among the large and pale yellow primroses a bit of another 
flower which one of the children had doubtless placed there. 
It was merely a stalk of the small pink-flowered saxifrage, com- 
mon in cottagers’ gardens, and called in some places London- 
pride ; in other parts of the country they tenderly call it None - 
so-pretty. 


CONFIDENCES. 


137 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

CONFIDENCES. 

Meanwhile during the time that Wenna Rosewarne had been 
up at Trelyon Hall her place in the inn had been occupied by a 
very handsome, self-willed, and gay-hearted young lady, who had 
endeavored, after a somewhat wild fashion, to fulfil her sister’s 
duties. She had gone singing through the house to see that the 
maids had put the rooms right ; she had had a fight with Jenni- 
fer about certain jellies ; she had petted her mother and teased 
her father into a good humor, after which she went outside in 
her smart print dress and bright ribbons, and sat down on the 
bench of black oak at the door. She formed part of a pretty 
picture there ; the bright April day was still shining all around, 
on the plashing water of the mill, on the pigeons standing on the 
roof, and on the hills beyond the harbor, which were yellow with 
masses of furze. 

“ And now,” said this young lady to herself, “ the question is, 
can I become a villain ? If I could only get one of the persons 
out of a story to tell me how they managed to do it successfully, 
how fine that would be ! Here is the letter in my pocket — of 
course it has his address in it. I burn the letter. Wenna doesn’t 
write to him. He gets angry, and writes again and again. I 
burn each one as it comes ; then he becomes indignant, and will 
write no more. He thinks she has forsaken him, and he uses 
naughty words, and pretends to be well rid of her. She is troub- 
led and astonished for a time ; then her pride is touched, and she 
won’t mention his name. In the end, of course, she marries a 
handsome young gentleman, who is really in love with her, and 
they are so very happy — oh, it is delightful to think of it ! and 
then, a long time after, the other one comes home, and they all 
find out the villain — that’s me — but they are all quite pleased 
with the way it has ended, and they forgive me. How clever 
they are in stories to be able to do that !” 

She took a letter out of her pocket, and furtively looked at it. 


138 


THREE FEATHERS. 


It bore a foreign postmark. She glanced around to see that no 
one had observed her, and concealed it again. 

“ To burn this one is easy. But old Malachi mightn’t always 
let me rummage his bag ; and a single one getting into Wenna’s 
hands would spoil the whole thing. Besides, if Wenna did not 
write out to Jamaica he would write home to some of his friends 
— some of those nice, cautious, inquiring clergymen, no doubt, 
about the Hall — to let him know ; and then there would be a 
pretty squabble. I never noticed how the villains in the stories 
managed that ; I suppose there were no clever clergymen about, 
and no ill-tempered old postman like Malachi Lean. And oh ! I 
should like to see what he says — he will make such beautiful 
speeches about absence and trust, and all that ; and he will throw 
himself on her mercy, and he will remind her of her engaged 
ring.” 

Mabyn laughed to herself — a quiet, triumphant laugh. When- 
ever she was very downhearted about her sister’s affairs, she used 
to look at the gipsy ring of emeralds, and repeat to herself — 

“Oh, green’s forsaken, 

And yellow’s forsworn, 

And blue’s the sweetest 
Color that’s worn!” 

— and on this occasion she reflected that perhaps, after all, it was 
scarcely worth while for her to become a villain in order to secure 
a result that had already been ordained by Fate. 

“ Mab,” said her father, coming out to interrupt her reflections, 
and speaking in a peevishly indolent voice, “ where’s Wenna ? I 
want her to write some letters and to go over to the Annots’. Of 
course your mother’s ill again, and can’t do anything.” 

“ Can’t I write the letters ?” said Mabyn. 

“You? you’re only fit to go capering about a dancing-academy. 
I want Wenna.” 

“ Well, I think you might let her have one forenoon to her- 
self,” Mabyn said, with some sharpness ; “ she doesn’t take many 
holidays. She’s always doing other people’s work, and when 
they’re quite able to do it for themselves.” 

Mabyn’s father was quite insensible to the sarcasm ; he said, in 
a complaining way — 

“Yes, that’s sure enough; she’s always meddling in other 


CONFIDENCES. 


139 


people’s affairs, and they don’t thank her for it. And a nice 
thing she’s done with those Annots. Why, that young Hanna- 
bel fellow was quite content to mind his own bit of farm like any 
one else, until she put it into his head to get a spring-cart, and 
drive all the way down to Devonport with his poultry ; and now 
she’s led him on so that he buys up the fish, and the poultry and 
eggs, and butter and things from all the folks about him, to sell 
at Devonport; and of course they’re raising their prices, and 
they’ll scarcely deal with you except as a favor, they’ve got so 
precious independent. And now he’s come to the Tregear farm, 
and if Wenna doesn’t interfere they’ll be contracting with him 
for the whole summer. There’s one blessed mercy, when she 
gets married she’ll have to stop that nonsense, and have to mind 
her own business.” 

“ Yes,” said Mabyn, with some promptitude, “and she has been 
left to mind her own business pretty well of late.” 

“ What’s the matter with you, Mabyn ?” her father carelessly 
asked, noticing at length the peculiarity of her tone. 

“ Why,” she said, indignantly, “ you and mother had no right 
to let her go and engage herself to that man. You ought to have 
interfered. She’s not fit to act for herself — she let herself be 
coaxed over, and you’ll be sorry for it some day.” 

“ Hold your tongue, child,” her father said, “ and don’t talk 
about things you can’t understand. A lot of experience you have 
had ! If Wenna didn’t want to marry him, she could have said 
so ; if she doesn’t want to marry him now, she has only to say so. 
What harm can there be in that ?” 

“ Oh yes ; it’s all very simple,” the girl said to herself, as she 
rose and went away ; “ very simple to say she can do what she 
pleases ; but she can’t, and she should never have been allowed to 
put herself in such a position, for she will find it out afterwards 
if she doesn’t now. It seems to me there is nobody at all who 
cares about Wenna except me ; and she thinks I am a child, and 
pays no heed to me.” 

Wenna came in ; Mabyn heard her go up-stairs to her own room, 
and followed her. 

“ Oh, Wenna, who gave you this beautiful basket of primroses?” 
she cried, guessing instantly who had given them. “ It is such a 
pretty present to give to any one !” 

“ Mrs. Luke’s children gathered them,” Wenna said, coldly. 


140 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Oh, indeed ; where did the basket come from ?” 

“ Mr. Trelyon asked them to gather me the primroses,” Wenna 
said, impatiently ; “ I suppose he got the basket.” 

“ Then it is his present ?” Mabyn cried. “ Oh, how kind of 
him ! And see, Wenna — don’t you see what he has put in among 
the primroses? Look, Wenna — it is a bit of None-so-pretty. Oh, 
Wenna, that is a message to you !” 

“ Mabyn,” her sister said, with a severity that was seldom in 
her voice, “ you will make me vexed with you if you talk such 
nonsense. He would not dare to do such a thing — why, the ab- 
surdity of it ! And I am not at all well disposed towards Mr. 
Trelyon at this moment.” 

“ I don’t see why he shouldn’t,” said her sister humbly, and 
yet with a little inadvertent toss of the head ; “ every one knows 
you are pretty except yourself, and there can be no harm in a 
young man telling you so. He is not a greater fool than any- 
body else. He has got eyes. He knows that every one is in love 
with you — every one that is now in Eglosilyan, anyway. He is a 
very gentlemanly young man. He is a great friend to you. I 
don’t see why you should treat him so.” 

Mabyn began to move about the room, as she generally did 
when she was a trifle excited and indignant, and inclined to 
tears. 

“ There is no one thinks so highly of you as he does. He is 
more respectful to you than to all the people in the world. I 
think it is very hard and unkind of you.” 

“ But, Mabyn, what have I done ?” her sister said. 

“ You won’t believe he sent you that piece of None-so-pretty. 
You won’t take the least notice of his friendliness to you. You 
said you were vexed with him.” 

“ Well, I have reason to be vexed with him,” Wenna said, and 
would willingly have left the matter there. 

But her sister was not to be put off. She coaxed for a few 
minutes, then became petulant, and affected to be deeply hurt ; 
then assumed an air of authority, and said that she insisted on 
being told. Then the whole truth came out. Mr. Trelyon had 
been lending to Mr. Roscorla a sum of money which he had no 
business to lend. Mr. Trelyon had somehow mixed her up with 
the matter, under the impression that he was conferring a service 
on her. Mr. Trelyon had concealed the whole transaction from 


CONFIDENCES. 


141 


her, and, of course, Mr. Roscorla was silent also. And on the face 
of it Mr. Trelyon was responsible for Mr. Roscorla going away 
from his native land to face all manner of perils, discomforts, and 
anxieties; for without that fatal sum of money he might still 
have been living in peace and contentment up at Basset Cottage. 

“ Well, Wenna,” said the younger sister candidly, and with a 
resigned air, “ I never knew you so unreasonable before. All you 
seem able to do is to invent reasons for disliking Mr. Trelyon, and 
I have no doubt you used him shamefully when you saw him this 
forenoon. You are all love and kindness to people who have no 
claim on you — to brats in cottages and old women — but you are 
very hard on people who 1 — who respect you. And then,” add- 
ed Miss Mabyn, drawing herself up, “ if I were to tell you how 
the story of that money strikes me, would it surprise you ? Who 
asked Mr. Roscorla to have the money and go away ? Not Mr. 
Trelyon, I am sure. Who concealed it? Whose place was it to 
come and tell you — you who are engaged to him ? If it comes 
to that, I’ll tell you what I believe, and that is that Mr. Roscorla 
went and made use of the regard that Harry Trelyon has for you 
to get the money. There !” 

Mabyn uttered the last words with an air which said, “ I will 
speak out this time , if I die for it” But the effect on her sister 
was strange. Of course, she expected Wenna to rise up indig- 
nantly and protest against her speaking of Mr. Roscorla in such 
a way. She was ready to brave her wrath. She fully thought 
they were entering on the deadliest quarrel that had ever occurred 
between them. 

But whether it was that Wenna was too much grieved to care 
what her sister said, or whether it was that these frank accusations 
touched some secret consciousness in her own heart, the elder sis- 
ter remained strangely silent, her eyes cast down. Mabyn looked 
at her, wondering why she did not get up in a rage : Wenna was 
stealthily crying. And then, of course, the younger sister’s arms 
were around her in a minute, and there was a great deal of sooth- 
ing and tender phrases ; and finally Mabyn, not knowing other- 
wise how to atone for her indiscretion, pulled out Mr. Roscorla’s 
letter, put it in Wenna’s hand, and went away. 


142 


THREE FEATHERS. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

THE FIRST MESSAGE HOME. 

Wenna was glad to have the letter at that moment. She had 
been distracted by all this affair of the money ; she had been 
troubled and angry — with whom she could scarcely tell ; but here 
was something that recalled her to a sense of her duty. She 
opened it, resolved to accept its counsels and commands with all 
due meekness. For such kindness as he might choose to show 
she would be grateful, and she would go back to her ordinary 
work more composed and cheerful, knowing that, whatever busi- 
ness affairs Mr. Roscorla might transact, her concern was only to 
remain loyal to the promises she had made, and to the trust which 
he reposed in her. 

And the letter was in reality a kind and friendly letter, written 
with a sort of good-humor that did not wholly conceal a certain 
pathetic consciousness of distance and loneliness. It gave her a 
brief description of the voyage ; of the look of the place at which 
he landed ; of his meeting with his friends ; and then of the man- 
ner in which he would have to spend his time while he remained 
in the island. 

“ My head is rather in a whirl as yet,” he wrote, “ and I can’t 
sit down and look at the simple facts of the case — that every one 
knows how brief and ordinary and commonplace a thing a voy- 
age from England to the West Indies is ; and how, looking at a 
map, I should consider myself as only having run out here for a 
little trip. At present my memory is full of the long nights and 
of the early mornings, and of the immeasurable seas that we were 
always leaving behind, so that now I feel as if England were away 
in some other planet altogether, that I should never return to. It 
seems years since I left you at Launceston station : when I look 
back to it I look through long days and nights of water, and noth- 
ing but water, and it seems as if it must be years and years before 
I could see an English harbor again, all masts and smoke and 
hurry, with posters upon the walls and cabs in the streets, and 


THE FIRST MESSAGE HOME. 


143 


somewhere or other a rail way -station where you know you can 
take your ticket for Cornwall, and get into your old ways again. 
But I am not going to give way to homesickness ; indeed, my 
dear Wenna, you need not fear that, for, from all I can make out, 
I shall have plenty to look after, and quite enough to keep me 
from mooning and dreaming. Of course I cannot tell you yet 
how things are likely to turn out, but the people I have seen this 
morning are hopeful ; and I am inclined to be hopeful myself, 
perhaps because the voyage has agreed with me very well, and 
has wonderfully improved my spirits. So I mean to set to work 
in good earnest, with the assurance that you are not indifferent 
to the results of it ; and then some day, when we are both enjoy- 
ing these, you won’t be sorry that I went away from you for a 
time. Already I have been speculating on all that we might do 
if this venture turns out well, for of course there is no necessity 
why you should be mewed up in Eglosilyan all your life, instead 
of feeling the enjoyment of change of scene and of interests. 
These are castles in the air, you will say, but they naturally arise 
in the mind when you are in buoyant health and spirits ; and I 
hope, if I return to England in the same mood, you will become 
infected with my confidence, and add some gayety to the quiet 
serenity of your life.” 

Wenna rather hurried over this passage ; the notion that she 
might be enabled to play the part of a fine lady by means of the 
money which Harry Trelyon had lent to her betrothed was not 
grateful to her. 

“ I wish,” the letter continued, “ that you had been looking less 
grave when you had your portrait taken. Many a time, on the 
voyage out, I used to fix my eyes on your portrait, and try to 
imagine I was looking at it in my own room at home, and that 
you were half a mile or so away from me, down at the inn in 
the valley. But these efforts were not successful, I must own ; 
for there was not much of the quiet of Eglosilyan around you 
when the men were tramping on the deck overhead, and the wa- 
ter hissing outside, and the engines throbbing. And when I used 
to take out your photograph on deck, in some quiet corner, I used 
to say to myself, ‘ Now I shall see Wenna just as she is to-day, 
and I shall know she has gone in to have a chat with the miller’s 
children ; or she is reading out at the edge of Black Cliff ; or she 
is contentedly sewing in her little parlor.’ Well, to tell you the 


144 


THREE FEATHERS. 


truth, Wenna, I got vexed with your photograph ; I never did 
think it was very good — now I consider it bad. Why, I think 
of you as I have seen you running about the cliffs with Mabyn, 
or romping with small children at home, and I see your face all 
light and laughter, and your tongue just a little too ready to say 
saucy things when an old fogy like myself would have liked you 
to take care; but here it is always the same face — sad, serious, 
and preoccupied. What were you thinking of when it was tak- 
en ? I suppose some of your proteges in the village had got into 
mischief.” 

“ Wenna, are you here ?” said her father, opening the door of 
her room. “ Why didn’t Mabyn tell me ? And a nice thing you’ve 
let us in for, by getting young Annot to start that business of go- 
ing to Devonport. He’s gone to Tregear now.” 

“ I know,” Wenna said, calmly. 

“ You know? And don’t you know what an inconvenience it 
will be to us ; for of course your mother can’t look after these 
things, and she’ll expect me to go and buy poultry and eggs for 
her.” 

“ Oh no,” Wenna said, “ all that is arranged. I settled it both 
with the Annots and the Tregear folks six weeks ago. We are to 
have whatever we want just as hitherto, and Hannabel Annot will 
take the rest.” 

“ I want you to write some letters,” said Mr. Rosewarne, disap- 
pointed of his grumble. 

“Very well,” said Wenna; and she rose and followed her fa- 
ther. 

They were met in the passage by Mabyn. 

“Where are you going, Wenna?” 

“ She is going to write some letters for me,” said her father, 
impatient of interference. “ Get out of the way, Mab.” 

“ Have you read that letter, Wenna? No, you haven’t. Why, 
father, don’t you know she’s got a letter from Mr. Roscorla, 
and you haven’t given her time to read it? She must go back 
instantly. Your letters can wait — or I’ll write them. Come 
along, Wenna.” 

Wenna laughed, and stood uncertain. Her father frowned at 
first, but thought better of what he was about to say, and only re- 
marked, as he shrugged his shoulders and passed on — 

“ Some day or other, my young lady, I shall have to cuff your 


THE FIRST MESSAGE HOME. 


145 


ears. Your temper is getting to be just a little too much for me, 
and as for the man who may marry you, God help him !” 

Mabyn carried her sister back in triumph to her own room, 
went inside with her, locked the door, and sat down by the win- 
dow. 

“ I shall wait until you have finished,” she said ; and Wenna, 
who was a little surprised that Mabyn should have been so anx- 
ious about the reading of a letter from Mr. Roscorla, took out the 
document again, and opened it, and continued her perusal. 

“ And now, Wenna,” the letter ran, “ I must finish ; for there 
are two gentlemen coming to call on me directly. Somehow I 
feel as I felt on sending you the first letter I ever sent you — that 
I have said nothing of what I should like to say. You might 
think me anxious, morbid, unreasonable, if I told you all the 
things that have occupied my mind of late with regard to you ; 
and yet sometimes a little restlessness creeps in that I can’t quite 
get rid of. It is through no want of trust in you, my dear Wen- 
na — I know your sincerity and high principle too well for that. 
To put the matter bluntly, I know you will keep faith with me ; 
and that when I get back to England, in good luck or in ill luck, 
you will be there to meet me, and ready to share in whatever fate 
fortune may have brought us both. But sometimes, to tell you 
the truth, I begin to think of your isolated position ; and of the 
possibility of your having doubts which you can’t express to any 
one, and which I, being so far away from you, cannot attempt to 
remove. I know how the heart may be troubled in absence — 
mistaking its own sensations, and fancying that what is in reality 
a longing to see some one is the beginning of some vague dissat- 
isfaction with the relations existing between you. Think of that, 
dear Wenna. If you are troubled or doubtful, put it down to the 
fact that I am not with you to give you courage and hope. A 
girl is indeed to be pitied at such a time : she hesitates to con- 
fess to herself that she has doubts ; and she is ashamed to ask 
counsel from her relatives. Happily, however, you have multifa- 
rious duties which will in great measure- keep you from brooding ; 
and I hope you will remember your promise to give me a full, 
true, and particular account of all that is happening in Eglosilyan. 
You can’t tell how interesting the merest trifles will be to me. 
They will help me to make pictures of you and all your surround- 
ings ; and already, at this great distance, I seem to feel the need 
10 


146 


THREE FEATHERS. 


of some such spur to the imagination. As I say, I cannot appeal 
to your portrait — there is no life in it ; but there is life in my 
mental portrait of you — life and happiness, and even the sound 
of your laughing. Tell me all about Mabyn, who, I think, is rath- 
er jealous of me — of your mother and father, and Jennifer, and 
everybody. Have you any people staying at the inn yet ; or only 
chance-comers ? Have the Trelyons returned ? — and has that wild 
school-boy succeeded yet in riding his horse over a cliff ?” 

And so, with some few affectionate phrases, the letter ended. 

“ Well ?” said Mabyn, coming back from the window. 

“Yes, he is quite well,” Wenna said, with her eyes grown dis- 
tant, as though she were looking at some of the scenes he had 
been describing. 

“ I did not ask if he was well,” Mabyn said. “ I asked what 
you thought of the letter. Does he say anything about the bor- 
rowing of that money ?” 

“ No, he does not.” 

“Very well, then,” Mabyn said, sharply. “ And you blame Mr. 
Trelyon for not telling you. Does a gentleman tell anybody when 
he lends money ? No ; but a gentleman might have told you that 
he had borrowed money from a friend of yours, who lent it be- 
cause of you. But there’s nothing of that in the letter — of course 
not — only appeals to high moral principles, I suppose, and a sort 
of going down on his knees to you that you mayn’t withdraw 
from a bargain he swindled you into — ” 

“ Mabyn, I won’t hear another word ! This is really most in- 
solent. You may say of me what you please ; but it is most cruel 
— it is most unworthy of you, Mabyn — to say such things of any 
one who cannot defend himself. And I won’t listen to them, 
Mabyn — let me say that once and for all.” 

“ Very well, Wenna,” the youngest sister said, with two big 
tears rising to her eyes as she rose and went to the door. “ You 
can quarrel with me if you please — but I’ve told you the truth — 
and there’s those who love you too well to see you made unhap- 
py ; but I suppose I am to say nothing more — ” 

And she went; and Wenna sat down by the window, thinking, 
with a sigh, that it seemed her fate to make everybody miserable. 
She sat there for a long time with the letter in her hand ; and 
sometimes she looked at it; but did not care to read it over 
again. The knowledge that she had it was something of a relief ; 


tintagel’s walls. 


147 


she would use it as a talisman to dispel doubts and cares when 
these came into her mind ; but she would wait until the necessity 
arose. She had one long and argumentative letter to which she 
in secret resorted whenever she wished to have the assurance that 
her acceptance of Mr. Roscorla had been a right thing to do ; 
here was a letter which would exorcise all anxious surmises as to 
the future which might creep in upon her during the wakeful 
hours of the night. She would put them both carefully into her 
drawer, even as she put a bit of camphor there to keep away 
moths. 

So she rose, with saddened eyes, and yet with something of a 
lighter heart ; and in passing by the side- table she stopped — per- 
haps by inadvertence — to look at the basket of primroses which 
Harry Trelyon had sent her. She seemed surprised. Apparent- 
ly missing something, she looked around and on the floor, to see 
that it had not fallen ; and then she said to herself, “ I suppose 
Mabyn has taken it for her hair.’ , 


CHAPTER XX. 
tintagel’s walls. 

What was the matter with Harry Trelyon ? His mother could 
not make out, and there never had been much confidence between 
them, so that she did not care to ask. But she watched ; and she 
saw that he had, for the time at least, forsaken his accustomed 
haunts and ways, and become gloomy, silent, and self-possessed. 
Dick was left neglected in the stables; you no longer heard his 
rapid clatter along the highway, with the not over-melodious voice 
of his master singing “The Men of Merry, Merry England” or 
“The Young Chevalier.” The long and slender fishing-rod re- 
mained on the pegs in the hall, although you could hear the flop 
of the small burn-trout of an evening when the flies were thick 
over the stream. The dogs were deprived of their accustomed 
runs ; the horses had to be taken out for exercise by the groom ; 
and the various *and innumerable animals about the place missed 
their doses of alternate petting and teasing, all because Master 
Harry had chosen to shut himself up in his study. 


148 


THREE FEATHERS. 


The mother of the young man very soon discovered that her 
son was not devoting his hours of seclusion in that extraordinary 
museum of natural history to making trout-flies, stuffing birds, 
and arranging pinned butterflies in cases, as was his custom. 
These were not the occupations which now kept Trelyon up half 
the night. When she went in of a morning, before he was up, 
she found that he had been covering whole sheets of paper with 
careful copying out of passages taken at random from the vol- 
umes beside him. A Latin Grammar was ordinarily on the table 
— a book which the young gentleman had brought back from 
school pretty well free from thumb-marks. Occasionally a fenc- 
ing-foil lay among these evidences of study ; while the small 
aquaria, the cases of stuffed animals with fancy backgrounds, and 
the numerous birdcages had been thrust aside to give fair elbow- 
room. “ Perhaps,” said Mrs. Trelyon to herself, with much satis- 
faction — “ perhaps, after all, that good little girl has given him a 
hint about Parliament, and he is preparing himself.” 

A few days of this seclusion, however, began to make the 
mother anxious ; and so, one morning, she went into his room. 
He hastily turned over the sheet of paper on which he had been 
writing ; then he looked up, not too well pleased. 

“ Harry, why do you stay indoors on such a beautiful morn- 
ing ? It is quite like summer.” 

“ Yes, I know,” he said indifferently ; “ I suppose we shall 
soon have a batch of parsons here : summer always brings them. 
They come out with the hot weather — like bluebottles.” 

Mrs. Trelyon was disappointed ; she thought Wenna Rosewarne 
had cured him of his insane dislike to clergymen — indeed, for 
many a day gone by he had kept respectfully silent on the subject. 

“ But we shall not ask them to come if you’d rather not,” she 
said, wishing to do all she could to encourage the reformation of 
his ways. “ I think Mr. Barnes promised to visit us early in May ; 
but he is only one.” 

“ And one is worse than a dozen. 'When there’s a lot you can 
leave ’em to fight it out among themselves. But one — to have 
one stalking about an empty house, like a ghost dipped in ink ! 
Why can’t you ask anybody but clergymen, mother ? There are 
whole lots of people would like to run down to Cornwall for a 
fortnight before getting into the thick of the season — there’s 
the Pomeroy girls as good as offered to come.” 


tintagel’s walls. 


149 


“ But they can’t come by themselves,” Mrs. Trelyon said, with 
a feeble protest. 

“ Oh yes, they can ; they’re ugly enough to be safe anywhere. 
And why don’t you get Juliott up? She’ll be glad to get away 
from that old curmudgeon for a week. And you ought to ask 
the Trewhellas, mother and daughter, to dinner — that old fellow 
is not half a bad sort of fellow, although he’s a clergyman.” 

“ Harry,” said his mother, interrupting him, “ I’ll fill the 
house, if that will please you; and you shall ask whomsoever 
you please.” 

“ All right,” said he ; “ the place wants waking up.” 

“ And then,” said the mother, wishing to be still more gracious, 
“you might ask Miss Rosewarne to dine with us — she might 
come well enough, although Mr. Roscorla is not here.” 

A sort of gloom fell over the young man’s face again. 

“ I can’t ask her ; you may if you like.” 

Mrs. Trelyon stared. “ What’s the matter, Harry ? Have you 
and she quarrelled ? Why, I was going to ask you, if you were 
down in the village to-day, to say that I should like to see her.” 

“ And how could I take such a message ?” the young man said, 
rather warmly. “ I don’t see why the girl should be ordered up 
to see you as if you were conferring a favor on her by joining in 
this scheme. She’s very hard-worked ; you have got plenty of 
time ; you ought to call on her, and study her convenience, in- 
stead of making her trot all the way up here whenever you want 
to talk to her.” 

The pale and gentle woman was anxious not to give way to 
petulance just then. 

“ Well, you are quite right, Harry ; it was thoughtless of me. 
I should like to go down and see her this morning ; but I have 
sent Jakes over to the blacksmith’s, and I am afraid of that new 
lad.” 

“ Oh, I will drive you down to the inn. I suppose among 
them they can put the horses to the wagonette,” the young man 
said ; and then Mrs. Trelyon went off to get ready. 

It was a beautiful, fresh morning; the far-off line of the sea 
still and blue ; the sunlight lighting up the wonderful masses of 
primroses along the tall banks ; the air sweet with the resinous 
odor of the gorse. Mrs. Trelyon looked with a gentle and child- 
like pleasure on all these things, and was fairly inclined to be 


150 


THREE FEATHERS. 


very friendly with the young gentleman beside her. But he was 
more than ordinarily silent and morose. 

He spoke scarcely a word to her as the carriage rolled along 
the silent highways. He drove rapidly and carelessly down the 
steep thoroughfare of Eglosilyan, although there were plenty of 
loose stones about. Then he pulled sharply up in front of the 
inn ; and George Rosewarne appeared. 

“ Mr. Rosewarne, let me introduce you to my mother. She 
wants to see Miss Wenna for a few moments, if she is not en- 
gaged.” 

Mr. Rosewarne took off his cap, assisted Mrs. Trelyon to alight, 
and then showed her the way into the house. 

“Won’t you come in, Harry?” his mother said. 

“ No.” 

A man had come out to the horses’ heads. 

“ You leave ’em alone,” said the young gentleman. “ I sha’n’t 
get down.” 

Mabyn came out, her bright young face full of pleasure. 

“ How do you do, Mabyn ?” he said, coldly, and without offer- 
ing to shake hands. 

“ Won’t you come in for a minute?” she said, rather surprised. 

“ No, thank you. Don’t you stay out in the cold ; you’ve got 
nothing round your neck.” 

Mabyn went away without saying a word, but thinking that 
the coolness of the air was much less apparent than that of his 
manner and speech. 

Being at length left to himself, he turned his attention to the 
horses before him, and eventually, to pass the time, took out his 
pocket-handkerchief and began to polish the silver on the handle 
of the whip. He was disturbed in this peaceful occupation by a 
very timid voice, which said, “ Mr. Trelyon.” 

He turned round and found that Wenna’s wistful face was 
looking up to him, with a look in it partly of friendly gladness, 
and partly of anxiety and entreaty. 

“ Mr. Trelyon,” she said, with her eyes cast down, “ I think 
you are offended with me. I am very sorry. I beg your for- 
giveness.” 

The reins were fastened up in a minute, and he was down in 
the road beside her. 

“ Now, look here, Wenna,” he said. “ What could you mean 


tintagel’s walls. 


151 


by treating me so unfairly ? I don’t mean in being vexed with 
me; but in shunting me off, as it were, instead of having it out 
at once. I don’t think it was fair.” 

“ I am very sorry,” she said. “ I think I was very wrong ; but 
you don’t know what a girl feels about such things. Will you 
come into the inn ?” 

“And leave my horses ? No,” he said, good-naturedly. “ But 
as soon as I get that fellow out, I will ; so you go in at once, and 
I’ll follow you directly. And mind, Wenna, don’t you be so silly 
again, or you and I may have a real quarrel. And I know that 
would break your heart.” 

The old pleased smile lit up her face again as she turned and 
went indoors ; he, meanwhile, proceeded to summon an hostler by 
shouting his name at the pitch of his voice. 

The small party of women assembled in the parlor were a trifle 
embarrassed : it was the first time that the great lady of the neigh- 
borhood had honored the inn with a visit. She herself was merely 
quiet, gentle, and pleased ; but Mrs. Rosewarne, with her fine eyes 
and sensitive face lit up and quickened by the novel excitement, 
was all anxiety to amuse and interest and propitiate her distin- 
guished guest. Mabyn, too, was rather shy and embarrassed ; she 
said things hastily, and then seemed afraid of her interference. 
Wenna was scarcely at her ease, because she saw that her mother 
and sister were not ; and she was very anxious, moreover, that 
these two should think well of Mrs. Trelyon and be disposed to 
like her. 

The sudden appearance of a man, with a man’s rough ways and 
loud voice, seemed to shake these feminine elements better to- 
gether, and to clear the air of timid apprehensions and cautions. 
Harry Trelyon came into the room with quite a marked freshness 
and good-nature on his face. His mother was surprised : what 
had completely changed his manner in a couple of minutes ? 

“ How are you, Mrs. Rosewarne ?” he cried, in his off-hand 
fashion. “You oughtn’t to be indoors on such a morning, or 
we’ll never get you well, you know ; and the doctor will be send- 
ing you to Penzance or Devonport for a change. — Well, Mabyn, 
have" you convinced anybody yet that your farm-laborers with 
their twelve shillings a week are better off than the slate-workers 
with their eighteen? You’d better take your sister’s opinion on 
that point, and don’t squabble with me. — Mother, what’s the uso 


152 


THREE FEATHERS. 


of sitting here? You bring Miss Wenna with you into the wag- 
onette, and talk to her there about all your business affairs, and 
I’ll take you for a drive. Come along ! And, of course, I want 
somebody with me : will you come, Mrs. Rosewarne, or will Ma- 
byn? You can’t? — then Mabyn must. — Go along, Mabyn, and 
put your best hat on, and make yourself uncommonly smart, and 
you shall be allowed to sit next the driver — that’s me !” 

And indeed he bundled the whole of them about until they 
were seated in the wagonette just as he had indicated ; and away 
they went from the inn-door. 

“And you think you are coming back in half an hour?” he 
said to his companion, who was very pleased and very proud to 
occupy such a place. “ Oh no, you’re not. You’re a young and 
simple thing, Mabyn. These two behind us will go on talking 
now for any time about yards of calico and crotchet-needles and 
twopenny subscriptions; while you and I, don’t you see, are 
quietly driving them over to Tintagel — ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Trelyon !” said Mabyn. 

“ You keep quiet. That isn’t the half of what’s going to be- 
fall you. I shall put up the horses at the inn, and I shall take 
you all down to the beach for a scramble to improve your appe- 
tite; and at the said inn you shall have luncheon with me, if 
you’re all very good and behave yourselves. Then we shall drive 
back just when we particularly please. Do you like the pict- 
ure ?” 

“ It is delightful — oh, I am sure Wenna will enjoy it J” Mabyn 
said. “ But don’t you think, Mr. Trelyon, that you might ask 
her to sit here? One sees better here than sitting sideways in 
a wagonette.” 

“ They have their business affairs to settle.” 

“Yes,” said Mabyn, petulantly, “that is what every one says; 
nobody expects Wenna ever to have a moment’s enjoyment to 
herself ! Oh ! here is old Uncle Cornish — he’s a great friend of 
Wenna’ s — he will be dreadfully hurt if she passes him without 
saying a word.” 

“ Then we must pull up and address Uncle Cornish. I believe 
he used to be the most thieving old ruffian of a poacher in this 
county.” 

There was a hale old man, of seventy or so, seated on a low 
wall in front of one of the gardens; his face shaded from the 


tintagel’s walls. 


153 


sunlight by a broad hat ; bis lean gray bands employed in buck- 
ling up the leathern leggings that encased his spare calves. He 
got up when the horses stopped, and looked in rather a dazed 
fashion at the carriage. 

“ How do you do this morning, Mr. Cornish ?” Wenna said. 

“ Why, now, to be sure !” the old man said, as if reproaching 
his own imperfect vision. “ ’Tis a fine marnin, Miss Wenna, and 
yii be agwoin for a drive.” 

“ And how is your daughter-in-law, Mr. Cornish ? Has she sold 
the pig yet ?” 

“ Naw, she hasn’t sold the peg. If yii be agwoin thru Trevalga, 
Miss Wenna, just yii stop and have a look at that peg ; yii’ll be 
mazed to see en ; ’tis many a year agone sence there has been 
such a peg by me. And perhaps yii’d take the laste bit o’ re- 
frashment, Miss Wenna, as yii go by ; Jane would get yii a coop 
o’ tay to once.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Cornish, I’ll look in and see the pig some 
other time ; to-day we sha’n’t he going as far as Trevalga.” 

“ Oh, won’t you ?” said Master Harry, in a low voice, as he 
drove on. “You’ll be in Trevalga before you know where you 
are.” 

Which was literally the case. Wenna was so much engaged 
in her talk with Mrs. Trelyon that she did not notice how far 
away they were getting from Eglosilyan. But Mabyn and her 
companion knew. They were now on the high uplands by the 
coast, driving between the beautiful banks which were starred 
with primroses and stitchwort and red deadnettle, and a dozen 
other bright and tender-hued firstlings of the year. The sun was 
warm on the hedges and the fields, but a cool breeze blew about 
these lofty heights, and stirred Mabyn’s splendid masses of hair 
as they drove rapidly along. Far over on their right, beyond the 
majestic wall of cliff, lay the great blue plain of the sea; and 
there stood the bold brown masses of the Sisters Rocks, with a 
circle of white foam around their base. As they looked down 
into the south, the white light was so fierce that they could but 
faintly discern objects through it ; but here and there they caught 
a glimpse of a square church-tower, or of a few rude cottages 
clustered on the high plain, and these seemed to be of a trans- 
parent gray in the blinding glare of the sun. 

Then suddenly in front of them they found a deep chasm, with 


154 


THREE FEATHERS. 


the white road leading down into its cool shadows. There was 
the channel of a stream, with the rocks looking purple amid the 
gray bushes ; and here were rich meadows, with cattle standing 
deep in the grass and the daisies; and over there, on the other 
side, a strip of forest, with the sunlight shining along one side of 
the tall and dark green pines. As they drove down into this 
place, which is called the Rocky Valley, a magpie rose from one 
of the fields and flew up into the firs. 

“ That is sorrow,” said Mabyn. 

Another one rose and flew up to the same spot. 

“ And that is joy,” she said, with her face brightening. 

“ Oh, but I saw another as we came to the brow of the hill, and 
that means a marriage !” her companion remarked to her. 

“ Oh no !” she said, quite eagerly. “ I am sure there was no 
third one. I am certain there were only two. I am quite posi- 
tive we only saw two.” 

“But why should you he so anxious?” Trelyon said. “You 
know you ought to be looking forward to a marriage, and that is 
always a happy thing. Are you envious, Mabyn ?” 

The girl was silent for a moment or two. Then she said, with 
a sudden bitterness in her tone — 

“ Isn’t it a fearful thing to have to be civil to people whom you 
hate? Isn’t it? — when they come and establish a claim on you 
through some one you care for. You look at them — yes, you 
can look at them — and you’ve got to see them kiss some one that 
you love ; and you wonder she doesn’t rush away for a bit of 
caustic and cauterize the place, as you do when a mad dog bites 
you.” 

“ Mabyn,” said the young man beside her, “ you are a most un- 
christian sort of person this morning. Who is it whom you hate 
in such a fashion ? Will you take the reins while I walk up the 
hill?” 

Mabyn’s little burst of passion still burned in her cheeks, and 
gave a proud and angry look to her mouth ; but she took the 
reins all the same, and her companion leaped to the ground. The 
banks on each side of the road going up this hill were tall and 
steep ; here and there great masses of wild flowers were scattered 
among the grass and the gorse. From time to time he stooped 
and picked up a handful ; until, when they had got up to the 
high and level country again, he had brought together a very 


tintagel’s walls. 


155 


pretty bouquet of wild blossoms. When he got into his seat and 
took the reins again, he carelessly gave the bouquet to Mabyn. 

“ Oh, how pretty !” she said ; and then she turned around. 
“Wenna, are you very much engaged? Look at the pretty bou- 
quet Mr. Trelyon has gathered for you.” 

Wenna’s quiet face flushed with pleasure when she took the 
flowers ; and Mrs. Trelyon looked pleased, and said they were 
very pretty. She evidently thought that her son was greatly im- 
proved in his manners when he condescended to gather flowers 
to present to a girl. Nay, was he not at this moment devoting a 
whole forenoon of his precious time to the unaccustomed task of 
taking ladies for a drive? Mrs. Trelyon regarded Wenna with a 
friendly look, and began to take a greater liking than ever to 
that sensitive and expressive face, and to the quiet and earnest 
eyes. 

“ But, Mr. Trelyon,” said Wenna, looking around, “ hadn’t we 
better turn ? We shall be at Trevenna directly.” 

“Yes, you are quite right,” said Master Harry; “you will be 
at Trevenna directly, and you are likely to be there for some time. 
For Mabyn and I have resolved to have luncheon there ; and we 
are going down to Tintagel ; and we shall most likely climb to 
King Arthur’s Castle. Have you any objection ?” 

Wenna had none. The drive through the cool and bright day 
had braced up her spirits. She was glad to know that everything 
looked promising about this scheme of hers. So she willingly 
surrendered herself to the holiday ; and in due time they drove 
into the odd and remote little village, and pulled up in front of 
the inn. 

So soon as the hostler had come to the horses’ heads, the young 
gentleman who had been driving jumped down and assisted his 
three companions to alight ; then he led the way into the inn. 
In the doorway stood a stranger — probably a commercial traveller 

who, with his hands in his pockets, his legs apart, and a cigar 

in his mouth, had been visiting those three ladies with a very 
hearty stare as they got out of the carriage. Moreover, when 
they came to the doorway he did not budge an inch, nor did he 
take his cigar from his mouth ; and so r as it had never been Mr. 
Trelyon’s fashion to sidle past any one, that young gentleman 
made straight for the middle of the passage, keeping his shoulders 
very square. The consequence was a collision. The impertur- 


156 


THREE FEATHERS. 


bable person with his hands in his pockets was sent staggering 
against the wall, while his cigar dropped on the stone. 

“ What the devil — ?” he was beginning to say, when Trelyon 
got the three women past him and into the small parlor ; then he 
went back. 

“Did you wish to speak to me, sir? No, you didn’t — I per- 
ceive you are a prudent person. Next time ladies pass you 
you’d better take your cigar out of your mouth, or somebody’ll 
destroy that two pennyworth of tobacco for you. Good-morning.” 

Then he returned to the little parlor, to which a waitress had 
been summoned. 

“ Now, Jinny, pull yourself together and let’s have something 
nice for luncheon — in an hour’s time, sharp — you will, won’t you ? 
And how about that Sillery with the blue star — not the stuff with 
the gold head that some abandoned ruffian in Plymouth brews in 
his back garden. Well, now, can’t you speak?” 

“ Yes, sir,” said the bewildered maid. 

“That’s a good thing — a very good thing,” said he, putting 
the shawls together on a sofa. “ Don’t you forget how to speak 
until you get married. And don’t let anybody come into this 
room. And you can let my man have his dinner and a pint of 
beer — oh ! I forgot, I’m my own man this morning, so you 
needn’t go asking for him. Now, will you remember all these 
things ?” 

“ Yes, sir ; but what would you like for luncheon ?” 

“ My good girl, we should like a thousand things for luncheon 
such as Tintagel never saw ; but what you’ve got to do is to give 
us the nicest things you’ve got ; do you see ? I leave it entirely 
in your hands. Come along, young people !” 

And so he bundled his charges out again into the main street 
of the village ; and somehow it happened that Mabyn addressed 
a timid remark to Mrs. Trelyon, and that Mrs. Trelyon, in answer- 
ing it, stopped for a moment ; so that Master Harry was sent to 
Wenna’s side, and these two led the way down the wide thorough- 
fare. There were few people visible in the old-fashioned place ; 
here and there an aged crone came out to the door of one of the 
rude stone cottages to look at the strangers. Overhead the sky 
was veiled with a thin fleece of white cloud ; but the light was 
intense for all that ; and, indeed, the colors of the objects around 
seemed all the more clear and marked. 


tintagel’s walls. 


157 


“Well, Miss Wenna,” said tlie young man, gayly, “how long 
are we to remain good friends ? What is the next fault you will 
have to find with me ? Or have you discovered something wrong 
already ?” 

“ Oh no !” she said, with a quiet smile, “ I am very good friends 
with you this morning. You have pleased your mother very much 
by bringing her for this drive.” 

“ Oh, nonsense !” he said. “ She might have as many drives 
as she chose ; but presently you’ll find a lot o’ those parsons back 
at the house, and she’ll take to her white gowns again, and the 
playing of the organ all the day long, and all that sham stuff. I 
tell you what it is : she never seems alive — she never seems to 
take any interest in anything — unless you’re with her. Now you 
will see how the novelty of this luncheon - party in an inn will 
amuse her ; but do you think she would care for it if she and I 
were here alone ?” 

“ Perhaps you never tried,” Miss Wenna said, gently. 

“Perhaps I knew she wouldn’t come. However, don’t let’s 
have a fight. I mean to be very civil to you to-day — I do, really.” 

“ I am so much obliged to you,” she said, meekly. “ But pray 
don’t give yourself unnecessary trouble.” 

“ Oh,” said he, “ I’d always be civil to you if you would treat 
me decently. But you say far more rude things than I do — in 
that soft way, you know, that looks as if it were all silk and hon- 
ey. I do think you’ve awfully little consideration for human 
failings. If one goes wrong in the least thing — even in one’s 
spelling — you say something that sounds as pleasant as possible, 
and all the same it transfixes you just as you stick a pin through 
a beetle. You are very hard, you are — I mean with those who 
would like to be friends with you. When it’s mere strangers, 
and cottagers, and people of that sort, who don’t care a brass 
farthing about you, then I believe you’re all gentleness and kind- 
ness ; but to your real friends — the edge of a saw is smooth com- 
pared to you.” 

“ Am I so very harsh to my friends ?” the young lady said in 
a resigned way. 

“ Oh, well !” he said, with some compunction, “ I don’t quite 
say that ; but you could be much more pleasant if you liked, and 
a little more charitable to their faults. You know there are some 
who would give a great deal to win your approval ; and perhaps 


158 


THREE FEATHERS. 


when you find fault they are so disappointed that they think your 
words are sharper than you mean ; and sometimes they think you 
might give them credit for trying to please you, at least.” 

“ And who are these persons ?” Wenna asked, with another 
smile stealing over her face. 

“ Oh !” said he, rather shamefacedly, “ there’s no need to ex- 
plain anything to you. You always see it before one need put it 
in words.” 

Well, perhaps it was in his manner, or in the tone of his voice, 
that there was something which seemed at this moment to touch 
her deeply ; for she half turned, and looked up at his face with 
her honest and earnest eyes, and said to him kindly — 

“Yes, I do know without your telling me; and it makes me 
happy to hear you talk so ; and if I am unjust to you, you must 
not think it intentional. And I shall try not to be so in the fut- 
ure.” 

Mrs. Trelyon was regarding with a kindly look the two young 
people walking in front of her. Whatever pleased her son pleased 
her; and she was glad to see him enjoy himself in so light-hearted 
a fashion. These two were chatting to each other in the friend- 
liest manner; sometimes they stopped to pick up wild flowers; 
they were as two children together, under the fair and light sum- 
mer skies. 

They went down and along a narrow valley, until they sudden- 
ly stood in front of the sea, the green waters of which were break- 
ing in upon a small and lonely creek. What strange light was 
this that fell from the white skies above, rendering all the objects 
around them sharp in outline and intense in color? The beach 
before them seemed of a pale lilac, where the green waves broke 
in a semicircle of white. On their right some masses of ruddy 
rock jutted out into the cold sea, and there were huge black cav- 
erns into which the waves dashed and roared. On their left and 
far above them towered a great and isolated rock, its precipitous 
sides scored here and there with twisted lines of red and yellow 
quartz ; and on the summit of this bold headland, amid the dark 
green of the sea-grass, they could see the dusky ruins — the crum- 
bling walls and doorways and battlements — of the castle that is 
named in all the stories of King Arthur and his knights. The 
bridge across to the mainland has, in the course of centuries, fall- 
en away ; but there, on the other side of the wide chasm, were 


tintagel’s walls. 


159 


the ruins of the other portions of the castle, scarcely to be distin- 
guished in parts from the grass-grown rocks. How long ago was 
it since Sir Tristram rode out here to the end of the world, to 
find the beautiful Isoulte awaiting him — she whom he had brought 
from Ireland as an unwilling bride to the old King Mark ? And 
what of the joyous company of knights and ladies who once held 
high sport in the courtyard there ? Trelyon, looking shyly at his 
companion, could see that her eyes seemed centuries away from 
him. She was quite unconscious of his covertly staring at her; 
for she was absently looking at the high and bare precipices, the 
deserted slopes of dark sea-grass, and the lonely and crumbling 
ruins. She was wondering whether the ghosts of those vanished 
people ever came back to this desolate headland, where they would 
find the world scarcely altered since they had left it. Did they 
come at night, when the land was dark, and when there was a 
light over the sea only coming from the stars? If one were to 
come at night alone, and sit down here by the shore, might not 
one see strange things far overhead, or hear some sound other 
than the falling of the waves? 

“ Miss Wenna,” he said — and she started suddenly — “ are you 
bold enough to climb up to the castle ? I know my mother would 
rather stay here.” 

She went with him mechanically. She followed him up the 
rude steps cut in the steep slopes of slate, holding his hand where 
that was necessary ; but her head was so full of dreams that she 
answered him when he spoke only with a vague Yes or No. When 
they descended again, they found that Mabyn had taken Mrs. Tre- 
lyon down to the beach, and had inveigled her into entering a huge 
cavern, or rather a natural tunnel, that went right through under- 
neath the promontory on which the castle is built. They were in 
a sort of green-hued twilight, a scent of sea-weed filling the damp 
air, and their voices raising an echo in the great hall of rock. 

“ I hope the climbing has not made you giddy,” Mrs. Trelyon 
said in her kind way to Wenna, noticing that she was very silent 
and distraite. 

“ Oh no !” Mabyn said promptly. “ She has been seeing ghosts. 
We always know when Wenna has been seeing ghosts. She re- 
mains so for hours.” 

And, indeed, at this time she was rather more reserved than 
usual all during their walk back to luncheon and while they were 


160 


THREE FEATHERS. 


in the inn ; and yet she was obviously very happy, and sometimes 
even amused by the childlike pleasure which Mrs. Trelyon seemed 
to obtain from these unwonted experiences. 

“ Come now, mother,” Master Harry said, “ what are you going 
to do for me when I come of age next month ? Fill the house with 
guests ? — yes, you promised that — with not more than one parson 
to the dozen. And when they are all feasting and gabbling, and 
missing the targets with their arrows, you’ll slip quietly away, 
and I’ll drive you and Miss Wenna over here, and you’ll go and 
get your feet wet again in that cavern, and you’ll come up here 
again, and have an elegant luncheon, just like this. Won’t that 
do?” 

“ I don’t quite know about the elegance of the luncheon ; but 
I’m sure our little excursion has been very pleasant. Don’t you 
think so, Miss Rosewarne ?” Mrs. Trelyon said. 

“ Indeed I do,” said Wenna, with her big dark eyes coming 
back from their trance. 

“And here is another thing,” remarked young Trelyon. “There’s 
a picture I’ve seen of the heir coming of age — he’s a horrid, self- 
sufficient young cad, but never mind — and it seems to be a day of 
general jollification. Can’t I give a present to somebody? Well, 
I’m going to give it to a young lady, who never cares for anything 
but what she can give away again to somebody else ; and it is — 
well, it is — why don’t you guess, Mabyn ?” 

“ I don’t know what you mean to give Wenna,” said Mabyn, 
naturally. 

“ Why, you silly, I mean to give her a dozen sewing-machines — 
a baker’s dozen — thirteen — there ! Oh, I heard you as you came 
along. It was all, ‘ Three sewing-machines will cost so much , and 
four sewing-machines will cost so much, and five sewing-machines 
will cost so much. And a 'penny a week from so many subscribers 
will be so much , and twopence a week from so many will be so 
much;' and all this as if my mother could tell you how much 
twice two was. My arithmetic ain’t very brilliant; but as for 
hers — And these you shall have, Miss Wenna — one baker’s 
dozen of sewing-machines, as per order, duly delivered, carriage 
free ; empty casks and bottles to be returned.” 

“ That is very kind of you, Mr. Trelyon,” Wenna said — and all 
the dreams had gone straight out of her head so soon as this was 
mentioned — “but we can’t possibly accept them. You know our 


tintagel’s walls. 


161 


scheme is to make the Sewing Club quite self-supporting — no 
charity.” 

“Oh, what stuff!” the young gentleman cried. “You know 
you will give all your labor and supervision for nothing — isn’t 
that charity ? And you know you will let off all sorts of people 
owing you subscriptions the moment some blessed baby falls ill. 
And you know you won’t charge interest on all the outlay. But 
if you insist on paying me back for my sewing-machines out of 
the overwhelming profits at the end of next year, then I’ll take 
the money. I’m not proud.” 

“Then we will take six sewing-machines from you, if you please, 
Mr. Trelyon, on those conditions,” said Wenna, gravely. And Mas- 
ter Harry — with a look towards Mabyn which was just about as 
good as a wink — consented. 

As they drove quietly back again to Eglosilyan, Mabyn had 
taken her former place by the driver, and found him uncommonly 
thoughtful. He answered her questions, but that was all ; and it 
was so unusual to find Harry Trelyon in this mood that she said 
to him — 

“ Mr. Trelyon, have you been seeing ghosts too ?” 

He turned to her and said — 

“ I was thinking about something. Look here, Mabyn ; did 
you ever know any one, or do you know any one, whose face is a 
sort of barometer to you? Suppose that you see her look pale 
and tired, or sad in any way, then down go your spirits, and you 
almost wish you had never been born. When you see her face 
brighten up, and get full of healthy color, you feel glad enough 
to burst out singing or go mad ; anyhow you know that every- 
thing’s all right. What the weather is, what people may say 
about you, whatever else may happen to you, that’s nothing — all 
you want to see is just that one person’s face look perfectly bright 
and perfectly happy, and nothing can touch you then. Did you 
ever know anybody like that ?” he added, rather abruptly. 

“ Oh yes !” said Mabyn, in a low voice ; “ that is when you are 
in love with some one. And there is only one face in all the 
world that I look to for all these things — there is only one person 
I know who tells you openly and simply in her face all that affects 

her and that is our Wenna. I suppose you have noticed that, 

Mr. Trelyon ?” 

But he did not make any answer. 

11 


1G2 


THREE FEATHERS. 


CHAPTER XXL 

CONFESSION. 

The lad lay dreaming in the warm meadows, by the side of a 
small and rapid brook, the clear waters of which plashed and 
bubbled in the sunlight as they hurried past the brown stones. 
His fishing-rod lay near him, hidden in the long grass and the 
daisies. The sun was hot in the valley — shining on a wall of gray 
rock behind him, and throwing purple shadows over the clefts ; 
shining on the dark bushes beside the stream, and on the lush 
green of the meadows ; shining on the trees beyond, in the shad- 
ow of which some dark-red cattle were standing. Then away on 
the other side of the valley rose gently sloping woods, gray and 
green in the haze of the heat ; and over these again was the pale 
blue sky with scarcely a cloud in it. It was a hot day to be 
found in spring-time ; but the waters of the brook seemed cool 
and pleasant as they gurgled by, and occasionally a breath of 
wind blew from over the woods. For the rest, he lay so still on 
this fine, indolent, dreamy morning that the birds around seemed 
to take no note of his presence ; and one of the large woodpeck- 
ers, with his scarlet head and green body brilliant in the sun, flew 
close by him and disappeared into the bushes opposite, like a sud- 
den gleam of color shot by a diamond. 

“ Next month,” he was thinking to himself, as he lay with his 
hands behind his head, not caring to shade his handsome and 
well-tanned face from the warm sun — “ next month I shall be 
twenty-one, and most folks will consider me a man. Anyhow, I 
don’t know the man whom I wouldn’t fight, or run, or ride, or 
shoot against, for any wager he liked. But of all the people who 
know anything about me, just that one whose opinion I care for 
will not consider me a man at all, but only a boy. And that with- 
out saying anything. You can tell, somehow, by a mere look 
what her feelings are ; and you know that what she thinks is 
true. Of course it’s true — I am only a boy. What’s the good 
of me to anybody ? I could look after a farm — that is, I could 


CONFESSION. 


163 


look after other people doing their work, hnt I couldn’t do any 
myself. And that seems to me what she is always looking at — 
what’s the good of you, what are you doing, what are you busy 
about? It’s all very well for her to be busy, for she can do a 
hundred thousand things, and she is always at them. What can 
Ido?” 

Then his wandering day-dreamings took another turn. 

“ It was an odd thing for Mabyn to say, ‘ That is when you are 
in love with some one .’ But those girls take everything for love. 
They don’t know how you can admire almost to worshipping the 
goodness of a woman, and how you are anxious that she should 
be well and happy, and how you would do anything in the world 
to please her, without fancying straight away that you are in love 
with her, and want to marry her, and drive about in the same car- 
riage with her. I shall be quite as fond of Wenna Rosewarne 
when she is married ; although I shall hate that little brute with 
his rum and his treacle — the cheek of him, in asking her to marry 
him, is astonishing. He is the most hideous little beast that could 
have been picked out to marry any woman ; but I suppose he has 
appealed to her compassion, and then she’ll do anything. But if 
there was anybody else in love with her — if she cared the least 
hit about anybody else — wouldn’t I go straight to her, and insist 
on her shunting that fellow aside ! What claim has he on any 
other feeling of hers but her compassion? Why, if that fellow 
were to come and try to frighten her — and if I were in the affair, 
and if she appealed to me even by a look — then there would be 
short work with something or somebody !” 

He got up hastily, with something of an angry look on his face. 
He did not notice that he had startled all the birds around from 
out of the bushes. He picked up his rod and line in a morose 
fashion, not seeming to care about adding to the half-dozen small 
and red-speckled trout he had in his basket. 

While he was thus irresolutely standing, he caught sight of 
a girl’s figure coming rapidly along the valley, under the shadow 
of some ash-trees growing by the stream. It was Wenna Rose- 
warne herself, and she seemed to be hurrying towards him. She 
was carrying some black object in her arms. 

“ Oh, Mr. Trelyon !” she said, “ what am I to do with this little 
dog ? I saw him kicking in the road and foaming at the mouth 
— and then he got up and ran — and I took him — ” 


164 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Before she had time to say anything more the young man made 
a sudden dive at the dog, caught hold of him, and turned and 
heaved him into the stream. He fell into a little pool of clear 
brown water ; he spluttered and paddled there for a second ; then 
he got his footing and scrambled across the stones up to the op- 
posite bank, where he began shaking the water from his coat 
among the long grass. 

“ Oh, how could you be so disgracefully cruel !” she said, with 
her face full of indignation. 

“ And how could you be so imprudent ?” he said, quite as ve- 
hemently. “ Why, whose is the dog ?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“And you catch up some mongrel little cur in the middle of 
the highway — he might have been mad — ” 

“ I knew he wasn’t mad !” she said ; “it was only a fit ; and 
how could you be so cruel as to throw him into the river ?” 

“Oh!” said the young man, coolly, “a dash of cold water is 
the best thing for a dog when it has a fit. Besides, I don’t care 
what he had, or what I did with him, so long as you are safe. 
Your little finger is of more consequence than the necks of all the 
curs in the country.” 

“Oh! it is mean of you to say that,” she retorted, warmly. 
“You have no pity for those wretched little things that are at 
every one’s mercy. If it were a handsome and beautiful dog, 
now, you would care for that ; or if it were a dog that was skilled 
in getting game for you, you would care for that.” 

“ Yes, certainly,” he said ; “ these are dogs that have some- 
thing to recommend them.” 

“Yes, and every one is good to them ; they are not in need of 
your favor. But you don’t think of the wretched little brutes 
that have nothing to recommend them — that only live on suffer- 
ance — that every one kicks and despises and starves.” 

“ Well,” said he, with some compunction, “ look there ! That 
new friend of yours — he’s no great beauty, you must confess — is 
all right now. The bath has cured him. As soon as he’s done 
licking his paws, he’ll be off home, wherever that may be. But 
I’ve always noticed that about you,Wenna — you’re always on the 
side of things that are ugly and helpless and useless in the world ; 
and you’re not very just to those who don’t agree with you. For 
after all, you know, one wants time to acquire that notion of yours 


CONFESSION. 


165 


— that it is only weak and ill-favored creatures that are worthy 
of any consideration.” 

“ Yes,” she said, rather sadly ; “ you want time to learn 
that.” 

He looked at her. Did she mean that her sympathy with those 
who were weak and ill-favored arose from some strange conscious- 
ness that she herself was both? His cheeks began to burn red. 
He had often heard her hint something like that ; and yet he had 
never dared to reason with her, or show her what he thought of 
her. Should he do so now ? 

“ Wenna,” he said, blushing hotly, “ I can’t make you out some- 
times. You speak as if no one cared for you. Now, if I were to 
tell you — ” 

“ Oh, I am not so ungrateful,” she said, hastily. “ I know that 
two or three do — and — and, Mr. Trelyon, do you think you could 
coax that little dog over the stream again ? You see he has come 
back again — he can’t find his way home.” 

Mr. Trelyon called to the dog ; it came down to the brook’s 
side, and whined and shivered on the brink. “Do you care a 
brass farthing about the little beast ?” he said to Wenna. 

“ I must put him on his way home,” she answered. 

Thereupon the young man went straight through the stream to 
the other side, jumping the deeper portions of the channel ; he 
caught up the dog, and brought it back to her; and when she 
was very angry with him for this mad performance, he merely 
kicked some of the water out of his trousers, and laughed. Then 
a smjle broke over her face also. 

“ Is that an example of what people would do for me ?” she 
said, shyly. “ Mr. Trelyon, you must keep walking through the 
warm grass till your feet are dry ; or will you come along to the 
inn, and I shall get you some shoes and stockings ? Pray do ; 
and at once. I am rather in a hurry.” 

“ I’ll go along with you, anyway,” he said, “ and put this little 
brute into the highway. But why are you in a hurry ?” 

“Because,” said Wenna, as they set out to walk down the val- 
ley — “ because my mother and I are going to Penzance the day 
after to-morrow, and I have a lot of things to get ready.” 

“ To Penzance ?” said he, with a sudden falling of the face. 

“Yes. She has been dreadfully out of sorts lately, and she has 
sunk into a kind of despondent state. The doctor says she must 


166 


THREE FEATHERS. 


have a change — a holiday, really, to take her away from the cares 
of the house — ” 

“ Why, Wenna, it’s you who want the holiday; it’s you who 
have the cares of the house !” Trelyon said, warmly. 

“And so I have persuaded her to go to Penzance for a week 
or two, and I go with her to look after her. Mr. Trelyon, would 
you be kind enough to keep Rock for me until we come back ? I 
am afraid of the servants neglecting him.” 

“ You needn’t be afraid of that : he’s not one of the ill-favored ; 
every one will attend to him,” said Trelyon ; and then he added, 
after a minute or two of silence, “ The fact is, I think I shall be 
at Penzance also while you are there. My Cousin J uliott is com- 
ing here in about a fortnight, to celebrate the important event of 
my coming of age, and I promised to go for her. I might as well 
go now.” 

She said nothing. 

“ I might as well go any time,” he said, rather impatiently. “ I 
haven’t got anything to do. Do you know, before you came 
along just now, I was thinking what a very useful person you 
were in the world, and what a very useless person I was — about 
as useless as this little cur. I think somebody should take me 
up and heave me into a river. And I was wondering, too ” — here 
he became a little more embarrassed and slow of speech — “ I was 
wondering what you would say if I spoke to you, and gave you 
a hint that sometimes — that sometimes one might wish to cut 
this lazy life if one only knew how, and whether so very busy a 
person as yourself mightn’t, don’t -you see, give one some notion 
— some sort of hint, in fact — ” 

“ Oh ! but then, Mr. Trelyon,” she said, quite cheerfully, “ you 
would think it very strange if I asked you to take any interest in 
the things that keep me busy. That is not a man’s work. I 
wouldn’t accept you as a pupil.” 

He burst out laughing. 

“ Why,” said he, “ do you think I offered to mend stockings, 
and set sums on slates, and coddle babies ?” 

“ As for setting sums on slates,” she remarked, with a quiet im- 
pertinence, “ the working of them out might be of use to you.” 

“ Yes, and a serious trouble, too,” he said, candidly. “ No, no 
— that cottage business ain’t in my line. I like to have a joke 
with the old folks or a romp with the children ; but I can’t go in 


CONFESSION. 


167 


for cutting out pinafores. I shall leave my mother to do my 
share of that for me ; and hasn’t she come out strong lately, eh ? 
It’s quite a new amusement for her, and it’s driven a deal of that 
organ-grinding stuff out of her head ; and I’ve a notion some of 
those parsons — ” 

He stopped short, remembering who his companion was; and 
at this moment they came to a gate which opened out on the 
highway, through which the small cur was passed to find his way 
home. 

“ Now, Miss Wenna,” said the young man — “ by the way, you 
see how I remember to address you respectfully ever since you 
got sulky with me about it the other day ?” 

“ I am sure I did not get sulky with you, and especially about 
that,” she remarked, with much composure. “ I suppose you are 
not aware that you have dropped the ‘Miss’ several times this 
morning already ?” 

“Did I, really? Well, then, I’m awfully sorry — but then you 
are so good-natured you tempt one to forget ; and my mother 
she always calls you Wenna Rosewarne now in speaking to me, 
as if you were a little school-girl instead of being the chief sup- 
port and pillar of all the public affairs of Eglosilyan. And now, 
Miss Wenna, I sha’n’t go down the road with you, because my 
damp boots and garments would gather the dust ; but perhaps 
you wouldn’t mind stopping two seconds here, and I’m going to 
go a cracker and ask you a question : What should a fellow in 
my position try to do ? You see, I haven’t had the least training 
for any one of the professions, even if I had any sort of ca- 
pacity — ” 

“But why should you wish to have a profession?” she said, 
simply. “ You have more money than is good for you already.” 

“ Then you don’t think it ignominious,” he said, with his face 
lighting up considerably, “ to fish in summer, and shoot in au- 
tumn, and hunt in winter, and make that the only business of 
one’s life ?” 

“ I should, if it were the only business ; but it needn’t be, and 
you don’t make it so. My father speaks very highly of the way 
you look after your property ; and he knows what attending to 
an estate is. And then you have so many opportunities of being 
kind and useful to the people about you, that you might do more 
good that way than by working night and day at a profession. 


168 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Then you owe much to yourself ; because if every one began with 
himself, and educated himself, and became satisfied and happy 
with doing his best, there would be no bad conduct and wretch- 
edness to call for interference. I don’t see why you should be 
ashamed of shooting and hunting, and all that ; and doing them 
as well as anybody else, or far better, as I hear people say. I 
don’t think a man is bound to have ambition and try to become 
famous ; you might be of much greater use in the world even in 
such a little place as Eglosilyan than if you were in Parliament. 
I did say to Mrs. Trelyon that I should like to see you in Parlia- 
ment, because one has a natural pride in any one that one ad- 
mires and likes very much — ” 

He saw the quick look of fear that sprang to her eyes — not a 
sudden appearance of shy embarrassment, but of absolute fear; 
and he was almost as startled by her blunder as she herself was. 
He hastily came to her rescue. He thanked her in a few rapid 
and formal words for her patience and advice ; and, as he saw 
she was trying to turn away and hide the mortification visible on 
her face, he shook hands with her, and let her go. 

Then he turned. He had been startled, it is true, and grieved 
to see the pain her chance words had caused her. But now a great 
glow of delight rose up within him ; and he could have called 
aloud to the blue skies and the silent woods because of the joy 
that filled his heart. They were chance words, of course. They 
were uttered with no deliberate intention ; on the contrary, her 
quick look of pain showed how bitterly she regretted the blun- 
der. Moreover, he congratulated himself on his rapid piece of 
acting, and assured himself that she would believe that he had not 
noticed that admission of hers. They were idle words. She 
would forget them. The incident, so far as she was concerned, 
was gone. 

But not so far as he was concerned. For now he knew that 
the person whom, above all other persons in the world, he was 
most desirous to please, whose respect and esteem he was most 
anxious to obtain, had not only condoned much of his idleness, 
out of the abundant charity of her heart, but had further, and by 
chance, revealed to him that she gave him some little share of 
that affection which she seemed to shed generously and indis- 
criminately on so many folks and things around her. He, too, 
was now in the charmed circle. He walked with a new pride 


ON WINGS OF HOPE. 


169 


through the warm, green meadows, his rod over his shoulder ; he 
whistled as he went, or he sang snatches of “ The Rose of Allan- 
dale.” He met two small boys out bird’s-nesting ; he gave them 
a shilling apiece, and then inconsistently informed them that if 
he caught them, then or at any other time, with a bird’s nest in 
their hands, he would cuff their ears. Then he walked hastily 
home, put by his fishing-rod, and shut himself up in his study 
with half a dozen of those learned volumes which he had brought 
back unsoiled from school. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

ON WINGS OF HOPE. 

When Trelyon arrived late one evening at Penzance, he was 
surprised to find his uncle’s coachman awaiting him at the station. 

“ What’s the matter, Tobias ? Is the old gentleman going to 
die? You don’t mean to say you are here for me?” 

“ Yaas, zor, I be,” said the little old man, with no great courtesy. 

“ Then he is going to die, if he sends out his horse at this time 
o’ night. Look here, Tobias ; I’ll put my portmanteau inside and 
come on the box to have a talk with you — you’re such a jolly old 
card, you know — and you’ll tell me all that’s happened since I last 
enjoyed my uncle’s bountiful hospitality.” 

This the young man did ; and then the brown-faced, wiry, and 
surly little person, having started his horse, proceeded to tell his 
story in a series of grumbling and disconnected sentences. He 
was not nearly so taciturn as he looked. 

“ The maaster he went sun to bed to-night — ’twere Miss Juliott 
sent me to the station, without tellin’ en. He’s gettin’ worse and 
worse, that’s sure ; if yii be for givin’ me half a crown, like, or 
any one that comes to the house, he finds it out and stops it out 
o’ my wages : yes, he does, zor, the old fule !” 

“ Tobias, be a little more respectful to my uncle, if you please.” 

“ Why, zor, yii knaw en well enough !” said the man, in the 
same surly fashion. “ And I’ll tell yii this, Maaster Harry, if yii 
be after dinner with en, and he has a bottle o’ poort wine that he 
puts on the mantel-piece, and he says to yii to let that aloan, vor 


170 


THREE FEATHERS. 


’tis a medicine-zart o’ wine, don’t yii heed en, but have that wine. 
’Tis the real old poort wine, zor, that yiir vather gied en ; the 
dahmned old Pagan !” 

The young man burst out laughing, instead of reprimanding 
Tobias, who maintained his sulky impassiveness of face. 

“ Why, zor, I be gardener now, too ; yaas, I be, to save the 
wages. And he’s gone clean mazed about that garden ; yes, I 
think. Would yii believe this, Maaster Harry, that he killed every 
one o’ the blessed strawberries last year with a lot o’ wrack from 
the bache, because he said it wild be as good for them as for the 
’sparagus ?” 

“ Well, but the old chap finds amusement in pottering about 
the garden — ” 

“ The old fule !” repeated Tobias, in an undertone. 

“ And the theory is sound about the sea-weed and the straw- 
berries ; just as his old notion of getting a green rose was by pour- 
ing sulphate of copper in at the roots.” 

“ Yaas, that were another pretty thing, Maaster Harry ; and he 
had the tin labels all printed out in French, and he waited and 
waited, and there bain’t a fairly giide rose left in the garden. 
And his violet glass for the cucumbers — he burned en up to once, 
although ’twere fine to hear ’n talk about the sunlight and the 
rays, and such nonsenses. He be a strange mahn, zor, and a 
dahmned close ’n with his penny pieces, Christian and all as he 
calls hissen. There’s Miss Juliott, zor, she’s goin’ to get married, 
I suppose ; and when she goes, no one’ll dare speak to ’n. Be yii 
goin’ to stop long this time, Maaster Harry ?” 

“ Not at the Hollies, Tobias. I shall go down to the Queen’s 
to-morrow ; I’ve got rooms there.” 

“ So much the better ; so much the better,” said the frank but 
inhospitable retainer; and presently the jog-trot old animal be- 
tween the shafts was pulled up in front of a certain square old- 
fashioned building of gray stone, which was prettily surrounded 
with trees. They had arrived at the Rev. Mr. Penal una’s house ; 
and there was a young lady standing in the light of the hall, she 
having opened the door very softly as she heard the carriage drive 
up. 

“ So here you are, Harry ; and you’ll stay with us the whole 
fortnight, won’t you ? Come into the dining-room — I have some 
supper ready for you. Papa’s gone to bed, and he desired me to 


ON WINGS OF HOPE. 


171 


give you his excuses, and he hopes you’ll make yourself quite at 
home, as you always do, Harry.” 

He did make himself quite at home ; for, having kissed his 
cousin, and flung his top-coat down in the hall, he went into the 
dining-room, and took possession of an easy-chair. 

“ Sha’n’t have any supper, Jue, thank you. You won’t mind 
my lighting a cigar — somebody’s been smoking here already. 
And what’s the least poisonous claret you’ve got ?” 

“ Well, I declare !” she said ; but she got him the wine all the 
same, and watched him light his cigar ; then she took the easy- 
chair opposite. 

“ Tell us about your young man, Jue,” he said. “ Girls always 
like to talk about that.” 

“ Do they ?” she said. “ Not to boys.” 

“ I shall be twenty-one in a fortnight. I am thinking of get- 
ting married.” 

“ So I hear,” she remarked, quietly. 

Now he had been talking nonsense at random — mostly intent 
on getting his cigar well lit; but this little observation rather 
startled him. 

“ What have you heard ?” he said, abruptly. 

“ Oh ! nothing — the ordinary stupid gossip,” she said, though 
she was watching him rather closely. “ Are you going to stay 
with us for the next fortnight ?” 

“ No ; I have got rooms at the Queen’s.” 

“ I thought so. One might have expected you, however, to stay 
with your relations when you came to Penzance.” 

“ Oh, that’s all gammon, Jue !” he said ; “ you know very well 
your father doesn’t care to have any one stay with you — it’s too 
much bother. You’ll have quite enough of me while I am in Pen- 
zance.” 

“ Shall we have anything of you ?” she said, with apparent in- 
difference. “ I understood that Miss Rosewarne and her mamma 
had already come here.” 

“ And what if they have?” he said, with unnecessary fierceness. 

“ Well, Harry,” she said, “ you needn’t get into a temper about 
it ; but people will talk, you know ; and they say that your atten- 
tions to that young lady are rather marked considering that she is 
engaged to be married ; and you have induced your mother to 
make a pet of her. Shall I go on ?” 


172 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“No, yon needn’t,” lie said, with a strong effort to overcome 
his anger. “You’re quite right — people do talk; hut they 
wouldn’t talk so much if other people didn’t carry tales. Why, 
it isn’t like you, Jue. 1 thought you were another sort. And 
about this girl of all girls in the world — ” 

He got up and began walking about the room, and talking with 
considerable vehemence, but no more in anger. He would tell 
her what cause there was for this silly gossip. He would tell her 
who this girl was who had been lightly mentioned. And in his 
blunt, frank, matter-of-fact way, which did not quite conceal his 
emotion, he revealed to his cousin all that he thought of Wenna 
Rosewarne, and what he hoped for her in the future, and what 
their present relations were, and then plainly asked her if she 
could condemn him. Miss Juliott was touched. 

“ Sit down, Harry ; I have wanted to talk to you, and I don’t 
mean to heed any gossip. Sit down, please — you frighten me by 
walking up and down like that. Now I’m going to talk com- 
mon-sense to you, for I should like to be your friend ; and your 
mother is so easily led away by any sort of sentiment that she 
isn’t likely to have seen with my eyes. Suppose that this Miss 
Rosewarne — ” 

“ No ; hold hard a bit, Jue,” he said, imperatively. “ You may 
talk till the millennium, but just keep off her, I warn you.” 

“Will you hear me out, you silly boy? Suppose that Miss 
Rosewarne is everything that you believe her to be. I’m going 
to grant that, because I’m going to ask you a question. You 
can’t have such an opinion of any girl, and be constantly in her 
society, and go following her about like this, without falling in 
love with her. Now, in that case, would you propose to marry 
her?” 

“ I marry her !” he said, his face becoming suddenly pale for a 
moment. “Jue, you are mad. I am not fit to marry a girl like 
that. You don’t know her. Why — ” 

“ Let all that alone, Harry ; when a man is in love with a wom- 
an he always thinks he’s good enough for her; and whether he 
does or not he tries to get her for a wife. Don’t let us discuss 
your comparative merits — one might even put in a word for you. 
But suppose you drifted into being in love with her — and I con- 
sider that quite probable — and suppose you forgot, as I know you 
would forget, the difference in your social position, how would 


ON WINGS OF HOPE. 


173 


you like to go and ask her to break her promise to the gentle- 
man to whom she is engaged?” 

Master Harry laughed aloud, in a somewhat nervous fash- 
ion. 

“ Him ? Look here, Jue ; leave me out of it — I haven’t the 
cheek to talk of myself in that connection ; but if there was a de- 
cent sort of fellow whom that girl really took a liking to, do you 
think he would let that elderly and elegant swell in Jamaica stand 
in his way ? He would be no such fool, I can tell you. He would 
consider the girl first of all. He would say to himself, 1 1 mean 
to make this girl happy ; if any one interferes, let him look out !’ 
Why, Jue, you don’t suppose any man would be frightened by 
that sort of thing !” 

Miss Juliott did not seem quite convinced by this burst of 
scornful oratory. She continued quietly — 

“ You forget something, Harry. Your heroic young man 
might find it easy to do something wild — to fight with that gen- 
tleman in the West Indies, or murder him, or anything like that, 
just as you see in a story ; but perhaps Miss Rosewarne might 
have something to say.” 

“ I meant if she cared for him,” Trelyon said, looking down. 

“Granting that also, do you think it likely your hot-headed 
gentleman would be able to get a young lady to disgrace herself 
by breaking her plighted word, and deceiving a man who went 
away trusting in her? You say she has a very tender conscience 
— that she is so anxious to consult every one’s happiness before 
her own — and all that. Probably it is true. I say nothing 
against her. But to bring the matter back to yourself — for I be- 
lieve you’re hot-headed enough to do anything — what would you 
think of her if you or anybody else persuaded her to do such a 
treacherous thing ?” 

“ She is not capable of treachery,” he said, somewhat stiffly. 
“ If you’ve got no more cheerful things to talk about, you’d bet- 
ter go to bed, Jue. I shall finish my cigar by myself.” 

“Very well, then, Harry. You know your room. Will you 
put out the lamp when you have lit your candle ?” 

So she went, and the young man was left alone, in no very en- 
viable frame of mind. He sat and smoked, while the clock on 
the mantel-piece swung its gilded boy, and struck the hours and 
half-hours with unheeded regularity. He lit a second cigar, and 


174 


THREE FEATHERS. 


a third ; he forgot the wine ; it seemed to him that he was look- 
ing on all the roads of life that lay before him, and they were lit 
up by as strange and new a light as that which was beginning to 
shine over the world outside. New fancies seemed to awake with 
the new dawn. For himself to ask Wenna Rosewarne to be his 
wife? — could he but win the tender and shy regard of her eyes 
he would fall at her feet and bathe them with his tears ! And if 
this wonderful thing were possible — if she could put her hand in 
his and trust to him for safety in all the coming years they might 
live together — what man of woman born would dare to interfere ? 
There was a blue light coming in through the shutters. He went 
to the window — the topmost leaves of the trees were quivering in 
the cold air, far up there in the clearing skies, where the stars 
were fading out one by one. And he could hear the sound of the 
sea on the distant beach ; and he knew that across the gray plain 
of waters the dawn was breaking, and that over the sleeping world 
another day was rising that seemed to him the first day of a new 
and tremulous life, full of joy and courage and hope. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

LOVE-MAKING AT LAND’S END. 

“Are you dreaming again, child?” said Mrs. Rosewarne to her 
daughter. “ You are not a fit companion for a sick woman, who 
is herself dull enough. Why do you always look so sad when 
you look at the sea, Wenna?” 

The wan-faced, beautiful-eyed woman lay on a sofa, a book 
beside her. She had been chatting in a bright, rapid, desultory 
fashion about the book and a dozen other things — amusing her- 
self really by a continual stream of playful talk — until she per- 
ceived that the girl’s fancies were far away. Then she stopped 
suddenly, with this expression of petulant but good-natured dis- 
appointment. 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon, mother,” said Wenna, who was seated 
at an open window fronting the bay. “ What did you say ? Why 
does the sea make one sad ? I don’t know. One feels less at 
home here than out on the rocks at Eglosilyan ; perhaps that is it. 


LOVE-MAKING AT LAND’S END. 


175 


Or the place is so beautiful that it almost makes you cry. I don’t 
know.” 

And, indeed, Penzance Bay, on this still, clear morning, was 
beautiful enough to attract wistful eyes and call up vague and dis- 
tant fancies. The cloudless sky was intensely dark in its blue ; 
one had a notion that the unseen sun was overhead and shining 
vertically down. The still plain of water — so clear that the shin- 
gle could be seen through it a long way out — had no decisive 
color ; but the fishing-smacks lying out there were jet-black points 
in the bewildering glare. The sunlight did not seem to be in the 
sky, in the air, or on the sea ; but when you turned to the southern 
arm of the bay, where the low line of green hills runs out into the 
water, there you could see the strong clear light shining — shining 
on the green fields and on the sharp black lines of hedges, on that 
bit of gray old town with its cottage-gardens and its sea-wall, and 
on the line of dark rock that formed the point of the promontory. 
On the other side of the bay, the eye followed the curve of the 
level shore, until it caught sight of St. Michael’s Mount rising 
palely from the water, its sunlit grays and purple shadows softened 
by the cool distance. Then beyond that again, on the verge of 
the far horizon, lay the long and narrow line of the Lizard, half 
lost in a silver haze. For the rest, a cool wind went this way and 
that through Mrs. Rosewarne’s room, stirring the curtains. There 
was a fresh odor of the sea in the air. It was a day for dreaming, 
perhaps ; but not for the gloom begotten of languor and an in- 
dolent pulse. 

“ Oh, mother — oh, mother !” Wenna cried, suddenly, with a flush 
of color in her cheeks. “Do you know who is coming along? 
Can you see? It is Mr. Trelyon, and he is looking at all the 
houses ; I know he is looking for us.” 

“ Child, child !” said the mother. “ How should Mr. Trelyon 
know we are here ?” 

“Because I told him,” Wenna replied, simply and hurriedly. 
“ Mother, may I wave a handkerchief to him ? Won’t you come 
and see him ? he seems so much more manly in this strange place ; 
and how brave and handsome he looks !” 

“ Wenna !” her mother said, severely. 

The girl did not wave a handkerchief, it is true ; although she 
knelt down at the open bay window, so that he must needs see 
her ; and sure enough he did. Off went his hat in a minute ; a 


176 


THREE FEATHERS. 


bright look of recognition leaped to his eyes, and he crossed the 
street. Then Wenna turned, all in a flutter of delight, and quite 
unconscious of the color in her face. 

“ Are you vexed, mother ? Mayn’t I be glad to see him ? Why, 
when I know that he will brighten up your spirits better than a 
dozen doctors ! One feels quite happy and hopeful whenever he 
comes into the room. Mother, you won’t have to complain of 
dulness if Mr. Trelyon comes to see you. And why doesn’t the 
girl send him up at once ?” 

Wenna was standing at the open door to receive him when he 
came up-stairs; she had wholly forgotten the embarrassment of 
their last parting. 

“ I thought I should find you out,” he said, when he came into 
the room, and it was clear that there was little embarrassment about 
him ; “ and I know how your mother likes to be teased and wor- 
ried. You’ve got a nice place here, Mrs. Rosewarne ; and what 
splendid weather you’ve brought with you !” 

“ Yes,” said Wenna, her whole face lit up with a shy gladness, 
“ haven’t we ? And did you ever see the bay looking more beau- 
tiful ? It is enough to make you laugh and clap your hands out 
of mere delight to see everything so lovely and fresh !” 

“A few minutes ago I thought you were nearly crying over it,” 
said the mother, with a smile ; but Miss Wenna took no heed of 
the reproof. She would have Mr. Trelyon help himself to a tum- 
bler of claret-and-water. She fetched out from some mysterious 
lodging-house recess an ornamented tin can of biscuits. She ac- 
cused herself of being the dullest companion in the world, and in- 
directly hinted that he might have pity on her mamma and stay 
to luncheon with them. 

“ Well, it’s very odd,” he said, telling a lie with great simplicity 
of purpose, “ but I had arranged to drive to the Land’s End for 
luncheon — to the inn there, you know. I suppose it wouldn’t — 
do you think, Mrs. Rosewarne — would it be convenient for you to 
come for a drive so far ?” 

“ Oh, it would be the very best thing in the world for her 
— nothing could be better,” said Wenna; and then she added, 
meekly, “ if it is not giving you too much trouble, Mr. Trelyon.” 

He laughed. 

“ Trouble ! I’m glad to be of use to anybody ; and in this case 
I shall have all the pleasure on my side. Well, I’m off now to 


LOVE-MAKING AT LAND’S END. 1 77 

see about the horses. If I come for you in half an hour, will that 
do ?” 

As soon as he had left, Mrs. Rosewarne turned to her daughter, 
and said to her, gravely enough — 

“ Wenna, one has seldom to talk to you about the proprieties; 
but, really, this seems just a little doubtful. Mr. Trelyon may 
make a friend of you ; that is all very well, for you are going to 
marry a friend of his. But you ought not to expect him to as- 
sociate with me.” 

“ Mother,” said Wenna, with hot cheeks, “I wonder how you 
can suspect him of thinking of such foolish and wicked things. 
Why, he is the .very last man in all the world to do anything that 
was mean and unkind, or to think about it.” 

“ My dear child, I suspect him of nothing,” Mrs. Rosewarne 
said ; “ but look at the simple facts of the case. Mr. Trelyon is a 
very rich gentleman : his family is an old one, greatly honored 
about here ; and if he is so recklessly kind as to offer his ac- 
quaintanceship to persons who are altogether in a different sphere 
of life, we should take care not to abuse his kindness, or to let 
people have occasion to wonder at him. Looking at your mar- 
riage and future station, it is perhaps more permissible with you ; 
but as regards myself, I don’t very much care, Wenna, to have 
Mr. Trelyon coming about the house.” 

“ Why, mother, I — I am surprised at you !” Wenna said, warm- 
ly. “You judge of him by the contemptible things that other 
people might say of him. Do you think he would care for that ? 
Mr. Trelyon is a man, and like a man he has the courage to choose 
such friends as he likes; and it is no more to him what money 
they have, or what their position is, than the — than the shape of 
their pocket-handkerchiefs is ! Perhaps that is his folly — reck- 
lessness — the recklessness of a young man. Perhaps it is. I am 
not old enough to know how people alter; but I hope I shall 
never see Mr. Trelyon alter in this respect — never, if he were to 
live for a hundred years. And — and I am surprised to hear you, 
of all people, mother, suggest such things of him. What has he 
done that you should think so meanly of him ?” 

Wenna was very indignant and hurt. She would have contin- 
ued further, but that a tremulous movement of her under lip caused 
her to turn away her head. 

“ Well, Wenna, you needn’t cry about it,” her mother said, gen- 
12 


178 


THREE FEATHERS. 


tly. “ It is of no great consequence. Of course every one must 
please himself in choosing his friends ; and I quite admit that Mr. 
Trelyon is not likely to be hindered by anything that anybody 
may say. Don’t take it so much to heart, child ; go and get on 
your things, and get back some of the cheerfulness you had while 
he was here. I will say that for the young man — that he has an 
extraordinary power of raising your spirits.” 

“ You are a good mother after all,” said Wenna, penitently ; 
“ and if you come and let me dress you prettily, I shall promise 
not to scold you again — not till the next time you deserve it.” 

By the time they drove away from Penzance the forenoon had 
softened into more beautiful colors. There was .a paler blue in 
the sky and on the sea, and millions of yellow stars twinkled on 
the ripples. A faint haze had fallen over the bright green hills 
lying on the south of the bay. 

“ Life looks worth having on such a day as this,” Trelyon said ; 
“ doesn’t it, Miss Wenna ?” 

She certainly seemed pleased enough. She drank in the sweet 
fresh air; she called attention to the pure rare colors of the sea 
and the green uplands ; the coolness of the woods through which 
they drove, the profuse abundance of wild flowers along the banks 
— all things around her seemed to have conspired to yield her de- 
light ; and a great happiness shone in her eyes. Mr. Trelyon talked 
mostly to Mrs. Rosewarne ; but his eyes rarely wandered away for 
long from Wenna’s pleased and radiant face ; and again and again 
he said to himself, “ And if a simple drive on a spring morning can 
give this child so great a delight , it is not the last that she and I 
shall have together .” 

“ Mrs. Rosewarne,” said he, “I think your daughter has as much 
need of a holiday as anybody. I don’t believe there’s a woman or 
girl in the county works as hard as she does.” 

“ I don’t know whether she needs it,” said Miss Wenna, of her- 
self, “ but I know that she enjoys it.” 

“ I know what you’d enjoy a good deal better than merely get- 
ting out of sight of your own door for a week or two,” said he. 
“ Wouldn’t you like to get clear away from England for six months, 
and go wandering about all sorts of fine places ? Why, I could 
take you such a trip in that time ! I should like to see what you’d 
say to some of the old Dutch towns and their churches, and all 
that ; then Cologne, you know, and a sail up the Rhine to Mainz ; 


LOVE-MAKING AT LAND’S END. 


179 


then you’d go on to Basel and Geneva, and we’d get you a fine 
big carriage, with the horses decorated with foxes’ and pheasants’ 
tails, to drive you to Chamounix. Then, when you had gone 
tremulously over the Mer de Glace, and kept your wits about you 
going down the Mauvais Pas, I don’t think you could do better 
than go on to the Italian lakes — you never saw anything like 
them, I’ll be bound — and Naples and Florence. Would you 
come back by the Tyrol, and have a turn at Zurich and Lucerne, 
with a ramble through the Black Forest in a trap resembling a 
ramshackle landau ?” 

“Thank you,” said Wenna, very cheerfully. “The sketch is 
delightful ; but I am pretty comfortable where I am.” 

“ But this can’t last,” said he. 

“And neither can my holidays,” she answered. 

“ Oh, but they ought to,” he retorted vehemently. “ You have 
not half enough amusement in your life — that’s my opinion. You 
slave too much for all those folks about Eglosilyan and their doz- 
ens of children. Why, you don’t get anything out of life as you 
ought to. What have you to look forward to ? Only the same 
ceaseless round of working for other people. Don’t you think 
you might let some one else have a tqrn at that useful but mo- 
notonous occupation ?” 

“ But Wenna has something else to look forward to now,” her 
mother reminded him gently ; and after that he did not speak for 
some time. 

Fair and blue was the sea that shone all around the land when 
they got out on the rough moorland near the coast. They drove 
to the solitary little inn perched over the steep cliffs ; and here 
the horses were put up and luncheon ordered. Would Mrs. Rose- 
warne venture down to the great rocks at the promontory ? No, 
she would rather stay indoors till the young people returned ; and 
so these two went along the grassy path by themselves. 

They clambered down the slopes, and went out among the huge 
blocks of weather-worn granite, many of which were brilliant with 
gray, green, and orange lichens. There was a low and thunderous 
noise in the air ; far below them, calm and fine as the day was, 
the summer sea dashed and roared into gigantic caverns, while the 
white foam floated out again on the troubled waves. Could any- 
thing have been more magical than the colors of the sea — its 
luminous greens, its rich purples, its brilliant blues, lying in long 


180 


THREE FEATHERS. 


swathes on the apparently motionless surface? It was only the 
seething white beneath their feet and the hoarse thunder along 
the coast that told of the force of this summer-like sea ; for the 
rest the picture was light and calm and beautiful. Out there the 
black rocks basked in the sunlight, the big skarts standing on their 
ledges, not moving a feather. A small steamer was slowly mak- 
ing for the island farther out, where a light-house stood. And 
far away beyond these, on the remote horizon, the Scilly Isles lay 
like a low bank of yellow fog, under the pale blue skies. 

They were very much by themselves, out here at the end of the 
world ; and yet they did not seem inclined to talk much. Wenna 
sat down on the warm grass ; her companion perched himself on 
one of the blocks of granite ; they watched the great undulations 
of the blue water rolling on the black rocks, and then falling back- 
ward seething in foam. 

“ And what are you thinking about ?” said Trelyon to her gen- 
tly, so that she should not be startled. 

“ Of nothing at all — I am quite happy,” Wenna said frankly. 
Then she added, “ I suppose the worst of a day like this is that 
a long time after you look back upon it, and it seems so beauti- 
ful and far away that it makes you miserable. You think how 
happy you were once. That is the unfortunate side of being 
happy.” 

“ Well,” said he, “ I must say you don’t look forward to the 
future with any great hope, if you think the recollection of one 
bright day will make you wretched.” 

He came down from his perch and stood beside her. 

“ Why, Wenna,” said he, “ do you know what you really need ? 
Some one to take you in hand thoroughly, and give you such an 
abundance of cheerful and pleasant days that you would never 
think of singling out any one of them. Why shouldn’t you have 
weeks and months of happy idling in bright weather, such as lots 
of people have who don’t deserve them a bit ? There’s something 
wrong in your position. You want some one to become your 
master, and compel you to make yourself happy. You won’t of 
yourself study your own comfort ; some one else ought to make 
you.” 

“And who do you think would care to take so much trouble 
about me ?” she said, with a smile ; for she attached no serious 
meaning to this random talk. 


LOVE-MAKING AT LAND’S END. 


181 


Her companion’s face flushed somewhat, not with embarrass- 
ment, but with the courage of what he was going to say. 

“I would,” he said, boldly. “You will say it is none of my 
business; but I tell you I would give twenty thousand pounds 
to-morrow if I were allowed to — to get you a whole summer of 
pleasant holidays.” 

There was something about the plain-spoken honesty of this 
avowal that touched her keenly. Wild and impossible as the 
suggestion was, it told her at least what one person in the 
world thought of her. She said to him, with her eyes cast 
down — 

“ I like to hear you speak like that — not for my own sake 
—but I know there is nothing generous and kindly that you 
wouldn’t do at a mere moment’s impulse. But I hope you don’t 
think I have been grumbling over my lot, on such a day as 
this ? Oh no ; I see too much of other people’s ways of living 
to complain of my own. I have every reason to be contented 
and happy.” 

“Yes, you’re a deal too contented and happy,” said he, with an 
impatient shrug. “ You want somebody to alter all that, and see 
that you get more to be contented and happy about.” 

She rose ; he gave her his hand to help her up. But he did not 
surrender her hand then, for the path up the slopes was a steep 
and difficult one; and she could fairly rely on his strength and 
sureness of foot. 

“ But you are not content, Mr. Trelyon.,” she said. “ I always 
notice that whenever you get to a dangerous place you are never 
satisfied unless you are putting your life in peril. Wouldn’t you 
like to ride your black horse down the face of this precipice ? Or 
wouldn’t you like to clamber down blindfold ? Why does a man 
generally seem to be anxious to get rid of his life ?” 

“ Perhaps it isn’t of much use to him,” he said, coolly. 

“ You ought not to say that,” she answered, in a low voice. 

“ Well,” he said, “ I don’t mean to break my neck yet awhile ; 
but if I did, who would miss me ? I suppose my mother would 
play half a dozen a day more operas or oratorios, or stuff of that 
sort, and there would be twenty parsons in the house for one 
there is at present. And some of the brats about the place would 
miss an occasional sixpence — which would be better for their 
health. And Dick — I suppose they’d sell him to some fool of a 


182 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Londoner, who would pound his knees out in the Park — he would 
miss me too.” 

“ And these are all,” she said, “ who would miss you ? You are 
kind to your friends.” 

“ Why, would you ?” he said, with a stare of surprise ; and then, 
seeing she would not speak, he continued with a laugh, “ I like 
the notion of my making an object of general compassion of my- 
self. Did the poor dear tumble off a rock into the sea? And 
where was its mother’s apron-string ? I’m not going to break my 
neck yet awhile, Miss Wenna ; so don’t you think I’m going to 
let you off your promise to pay me back for those sewing-ma- 
chines.” 

“ I have told you, Mr. Trelyon,” she said, with some dignity, 
“that we shall pay you back every farthing of the price of 
them.” 

He began to whistle in an impertinent manner. He clearly 
placed no great faith in the financial prospects of that Sewing 
Club. 

They had some light luncheon in the remote little inn, and Mrs. 
Rosewarne was pleased to see her ordinarily demure and preoccu- 
pied daughter in such high and careless spirits. It was not a 
splendid banquet. Nor was the chamber a gorgeous one, for the 
absence of ornament and the enormous thickness of the walls told 
of the house being shut up in the winter months and abandoned 
to the fury of the western gales, when the wild sea came hurling 
up the face of these steep cliffs and blowing over the land. But 
they paid little attention to any lack of luxury. There was a 
beautiful blue sea shining in the distance, the sunlight was fall- 
ing hotly on the greensward of the rocks outside, and a fresh, 
cool breeze came blowing in at the open window. They let the 
time pass easily, with pleasant talk and laughter. 

Then they drove leisurely back in the afternoon. They passed 
along the moorland ways, through rude little villages built of 
stone, and by the outskirts of level and cheerless farms, until they 
got into the beautiful woods and avenues lying around Penzance. 
When they came in sight of the broad bay, they found that the 
world had changed its colors since the morning. The sea was of 
a cold purplish gray ; but all around it, on the eastern horizon, 
there was a band of pale pink in the sky. On the west, again, 
behind Penzance, the warm hues of the sunset were shining be* 


LOVE-MAKING AT LAND’S END. 


183 


hind the black stems of the trees. The broad thoroughfare was 
mostly in shadow ; and the sea was so still that one could hear 
the footsteps and the voices of the people walking up and down 
the Parade. 

“ I suppose I must go now,” said the young gentleman, when 
he had seen them safely seated in the small parlor overlooking 
the bay. But he did not seem anxious to go. 

“But why go?” Wenna said, rather timidly. “You have no 
engagement, Mr. Trelyon. Would you care to stay and have din- 
ner with us — such a dinner as we can give you ?” 

“ Well, to tell you the truth, I should like it very much,” he 
said. 

Mrs. Rosewarne, a little Surprised, and yet glad to see Wenna 
enjoying herself, regarded the whole affair with a gentle resigna- 
tion. Wenna had the gas lighted, and the blinds let down; then, 
as the evening was rather cold, she had soon a bright fire burning 
in the grate. She helped to lay the table. She produced such 
wines as they had. She made sundry visits to the kitchen ; and 
at length the banquet was ready. 

What ailed the young man ? He seemed beside himself with 
careless and audacious mirth ; and he made Mrs. Rosewarne laugh 
as she had not laughed for years. It was in vain that Wenna as- 
sumed airs to rebuke his rudeness. Nothing was sacred from his 
impertinence — not even the offended majesty of her face. And 
at last she gave in too, and could only revenge herself by saying 
things of him which, the more severe they were, the more he 
seemed to enjoy. But after dinner she went to the small piano, 
while her mother took a big easy-chair near the fire ; and he sat 
by the table, apparently looking over some books. There was no 
more reckless laughter then. 

In ancient times — that is to say, in the half-forgotten days of our 
youth — a species of song existed which exists no more. It was not 
as the mournful ballads of these days, which seem to record the 
gloomy utterances of a strange young woman who has apparently 
wandered into the magic scene in “ Der Freischutz,” and who mix- 
es up the moanings of her passion with descriptions of the sights 
and sounds she there finds around her. It was of quite another 
stamp. It dealt with a phraseology of sentiment peculiar to itself 
— a “ patter,” as it were, which came to be universally recognized 
in drawing-rooms. It spoke of maidens plighting their troth, of 


184 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Phyllis enchanting her lover with her varied moods, of marble 
halls in which true love still remained the same. It apostrophized 
the shells of ocean ; it tenderly described the three great crises of 
a particular heroine’s life by mentioning successive head-dresses ; 
it told of how the lover of Pretty Jane would have her meet him 
in the evening. Well, all the world was content to accept this 
conventional phraseology ; and, behind the paraphernalia of “ en- 
chanted moonbeams ” and “ fondest glances ” and “ adoring sighs,” 
perceived and loved the sentiment that could find no simpler ut- 
terance. Some of us, hearing the half-forgotten songs again, sud- 
denly forget the odd language, and the old pathos springs up 
again, as fresh as in the days when our first love had just come home 
from her boarding-school ; while others, who have no old-stand- 
ing acquaintance with these memorable songs, have somehow got 
attracted to them by the mere quaintness of their speech and the 
simplicity of their airs. Master Harry Trelyon was no great critic 
of music. When Wenna Rosewarne sang that night “ She wore 
a wreath of roses,” he fancied he had never listened to anything 
so pathetic. When she sang “ Meet me by moonlight alone,” he 
was delighted with the spirit and half-humorous, half-tender grace 
of the composition. As she sang “ When other lips and other 
eyes,” it seemed to him that there were no songs like the old- 
fashioned songs, and that the people who wrote those ballads 
were more frank and simple and touching in their speech than 
writers nowadays. Somehow, he began to think of the drawing- 
rooms of a former generation ; and of the pictures of herself his 
grandmother had drawn for him many a time. Had she a high 
waist to that white silk dress in which she ran away to Gretna ; 
and did she have ostrich feathers on her head ? Anyhow, he en- 
tirely believed what she had told him of the men of that genera- 
tion. They were capable of doing daring things for the sake of 
a sweetheart. Of course his grandfather had done boldly and 
well in whirling the girl off to the Scottish borders; for who 
could tell what might have befallen her among ill-natured rela- 
tives and persecuted suitors? 

Wenna Rosewarne was singing “We met, ’twas in a crowd, 
and I thought he would shun me.” It is the song of a girl (must 
one explain so much in these later days?) who is in love with one 
man, and has been induced to marry another : she meets the for- 
mer, and her heart is filled with shame and anguish and remorse, 


THE CUT DIRECT. 


185 


As Wenna sang the song, it seemed to this young man that there 
was an unusual pathos in her voice ; and he was so carried away 
by the earnestness of her singing that his heart swelled and rose 
up within him, and he felt himself ready to declare that such 
should not be her fate. This man who was coming back to mar- 
ry her — was there no one ready to meet him and challenge his 
atrocious claim ? Then the song ended ; and, with a sudden dis- 
appointment, Trelyon recollected that he at least had no business 
to interfere. What right had he to think of saving her ? 

He had been idly turning over some volumes on the table. At 
last he came to a Prayer-book, of considerable size and elegance 
of binding. Carelessly looking at the fly-leaf, he saw that it was 
a present to Wenna Rosewarne, “ with the very dearest love of 
her sister Mabyn.” He passed his hand over the leaves, not 
noticing what he was doing ; suddenly he saw something which 
effectually startled him into attention. 

It was a sheet of paper with two slits cut into it at top and bot- 
tom. In these a carefully pressed piece of None-so-pretty had been 
placed, and just underneath the flower was written in pencil, “ From 
H. T. to W. R., May 2d, 18 — .” He shut the book quickly, as 
if his fingers had been burned ; and then he sat quite silent, with 
his heart beating fast. 

So she had kept the flower he had put in the basket of primroses. 
It had carried its message ; and she still remained his friend. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE CUT DIRECT. 

“Well, mother,” Miss Wenna said deliberately, after he 
had gone, “ I never did see you so thoroughly enjoy a whole 
day.” 

“ I W as thinking the same about you, Wenna,” the mother an- 
swered, with an amused look. 

“ That is true enough, mother,” the girl confessed, in her sim- 
ple way. “ He is so good-natured, so full of spirits, and careless, 
that one gets quite as careless and happy as himself. It is a 
great comfort, mother, to be with anybody who doesn’t watch the 


186 


THREE FEATHERS. 


meaning of every word you say — don’t you think so? And I 
hope I wasn’t rude — do you think I was rude ?” 

“ Why, child, I don’t think you could be rude to a fox that was 
eating your chickens. You would ask him to take a chair and 
not hurry himself.” 

“ Well, I must write to Mabyn now,” Wenna said, with a busi- 
ness-like air, “ and thank her for posting me this Prayer-book. I 
suppose she didn’t know I had my small one with me.” 

She took up the book, for she was sitting on the chair that 
Harry Trelyon had just vacated. She had no sooner done so than 
she caught sight of the sheet of paper with the dried flower and 
the inscription in Mabyn’s handwriting. She stared, with some- 
thing of a look of fear on her face. 

“ Mother,” she said, in quite an altered voice, “ did you notice 
if Mr. Trelyon was looking at this Prayer-book ?” 

“ I don’t know, Pm sure,” Mrs. Rosewarne said. “ I should think 
he went over every book on the table.” 

The girl said nothing ; but she took the book in her hand and 
carried it up to her own room. She stood for a moment irreso- 
lute ; then she took the sheet of paper with the flowers on it, and 
tore it in a hundred pieces, and threw them into the empty grate. 
Then she cried a little — as a girl must ; and finally went down 
again and wrote a letter to Mabyn which rather astonished that 
young lady. 

“ My dear Mabyn ” — so the letter ran — “ I am exceedingly 
angry with you. I did not think you were capable of such folly 
— I might call it by a worse name if I thought you really meant 
what you seem to mean. I have just torn up the worthless scrap 
of flower you so carefully preserved for me into a thousand pieces ; 
but you will be glad to know that in all probability Mr. Trelyon 
saw it on the paper, and the initials, too, which you put there. I 
cannot tell you how pained and angry I am. If he did place that 
flower intentionally among the primroses, it was most impertinent 
of him ; but he is often impertinent in joking. What must he 
think of me that I should seem to have taken this seriously, and 
treasured up that miserable and horrid piece of weed, and put his 
initials below it, and the important date? You put thoughts into 
my head that cover me with shame. I should not be fit to live if 
I were what you take me to be? If I thought there was another 


THE CUT DIRECT. 


187 


human being in the world who could imagine or suspect what you 
apparently desire, I would resolve this moment never to see Mr. 
Trelyon again ; and much harm that would do either him or me ! 
But I am too proud to think that any one could imagine such a 
thing. Nor did I expect that to come from my own sister, who 
ought to know what my true relations are with regard to Mr. Tre- 
lyon. I like him very much, as I told him to his face two days 
before we left Eglosilyan, and that will show you what our rela- 
tions are. I think he is a very frank, generous, and good young 
man, and a clever and cheerful companion ; and my mother has to- 
day to thank him for about the pleasantest little trip she has ever 
enjoyed. But as for your wishing me to preserve a flower that he 
sent, or that you think he sent to me, why, I feel my face burn- 
ing at the thought of what you suggest. And what can I say to 
him now, supposing he has seen it ? Can I tell him that my own 
sister thought such things of me ? Perhaps, after all, the simplest 
way to set matters right will be for me to break off the acquain- 
tance altogether ; and that will show him whether I was likely to 
have treasured up a scrap of London-pride in my Prayer-book. 

“ I am, your loving sister, 

“Wenna Rosewarne.” 

Meanwhile, Harry Trelyon was walking up and down the almost 
empty thoroughfare by the side of the sea; the stars overhead 
shining clearly in the dark night, the dimly seen waves falling 
monotonously on the shelving beach. 

“ To keep a flower, that is nothing,” he was saying to him- 
self. “ All girls do that, no matter who gives it to them. I 
suppose she has lots more, all with the proper initials and date 
attached.” 

It was not an agreeable reflection; he turned to other mat- 
ters. 

“ If she were to care for me a little bit, would it be mean of me 
to try to carry her off from that man ? Is it possible that he has 
the same regard for her that I have? In that case it would be 
mean. Now, when I think of her, the whole world seems filled 
with her presence somehow, and everything is changed. When I 
hear the sea in the morning, I think of her, and wonder where she 
is ; when I see a fine day, I hope she is enjoying it somewhere ; 
the whole of Penzance has become magical. It is no longer the 


188 


THREE FEATHERS. 


same town. I used to come to it, and never see it, in the old 
days, when one was busy about stables and the pilchard-fishing 
and the reports of the mines. Now the whole of Penzance has 
got a sort of charm in it, since Wenna Rosewarne has come to 
it. I look at the houses, and wonder if the people inside know 
anybody fit to compare with her; and one becomes grateful to 
the good weather for shining round about her and making her 
happy. I suppose the weather knows what she deserves.” 

Then he began to argue the question as to whether it would be 
fair and honorable to seek to take away from another man the 
woman who had pledged herself to marry him ; and of course an 
easy and definite decision is sure to be arrived at when counsel on 
both sides, and jury, and judges sitting in banco , are all one per- 
son, who conducts and closes the case as it suits himself. 

He began by assuming such facts as suited his arguments, and 
ended by selecting and confirming such arguments as suited him- 
self. Wenna Rosewarne cared nothing for Mr. Roscorla. She 
would be miserable if she married him ; her own sister was con- 
tinually hinting as much. Mr. Roscorla cared nothing for her ex- 
cept in so far as she might prove a pretty housewife for him. 
The selfishness that would sacrifice for its own purposes a girl’s 
happiness was of a peculiarly despicable sort which ought to be 
combated, and deserved no mercy. Therefore, and because of all 
these things, Harry Trelyon was justified in trying to win Wenna 
Rosewarne’s love. 

One by one the people who had been strolling up and down the 
dark thoroughfare left it ; he was almost alone now. He walked 
along to the house in which the Rosewarnes were. There was no 
light in any of the windows. But might she not be sitting up 
there by herself, looking out on the starlit heavens and listening 
to the waves? He wished to be able to say good-night to her 
once more. 

How soon would she be up and out on the morrow ? Early in 
the morning, when the young day was rising over the gray sea, 
and the sea-winds coming freshly in as if they were returning 
from the cold night ? If he could but see her at daybreak, with 
all the world asleep around them, and w T ith only themselves to 
watch the growing wonders of the dawn, might not he say some- 
thing to her then that she would not be vexed to hear, and per- 
suade her that a new sort of life lay before her if she would only 


THE CUT DIRECT. 


189 


enter it along with him ? That was the notion that he continu- 
ally dwelt on for self-justification, when he happened to take the 
trouble to justify himself. The crisis of this girl’s life was ap- 
proaching. Other errors might be retrieved ; that one, once com- 
mitted, never. If he could only see her now, this is what he 
would say: “ We can only live but once, Wenna ; and this for us 
two would be life — our only chance of it. Whatever else may hap- 
pen, that is no matter ; let us make sure of this one chance , and 
face the future together, you full of sweetness and trust, I having 
plenty of courage for both. We will treat objectors and objections 
as they may arise — afterwards ; perhaps they will be prudent and 
keep out of our way .” And, indeed, he convinced himself that 
this was Wenna Rosewarne’s one chance of securing happiness for 
her life, assuming, in a way, that he had love, as well as courage, 
sufficient for both. 

He was early up next morning, and down on the promenade ; 
but the day was not likely to tempt Wenna to come out just then. 
A gray fog hung over land and sea; the sea itself being a dull, 
leaden plain. Trelyon walked about, however, talking to every- 
body, as was his custom ; and everybody said the fog would clear 
and a fine day follow. This, in fact, happened ; and still Wenna 
did not make her appearance. The fog over the sea seemed to 
separate itself into clouds ; there was a dim, yellow light in the 
breaks. These breaks widened; there was a glimmer of blue. 
Then on the leaden plain a glare of white light fell, twinkling in 
innumerable stars on the water. Everything promised a clear, 
bright day. 

As a last resource, he thought he would go and get Juliott 
Penaluna, and persuade that young lady to come and be intro- 
duced to the Rosewarnes. At first Miss Penaluna refused point- 
blank. She asked him how he could expect her to do such a 
thing. But then her Cousin Harry happened to be civil, and in- 
deed kind in his manner to her ; and when he was in one of those 
moods there was nothing she could refuse him. She went and 
got ready with an air of resignation on her comely face. 

“ Mind, Harry, I am not responsible,” she said, when she came 
back. “ I am afraid I shall get into awful trouble about it.” 

“ And who will interfere ?” said the young man, just as if he 
were looking about for some one anxious to be thrown from the 
top of the tower on St. Michael’s Mount. 


190 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ I shall be accused of conniving, you know ; and I think I am 
very good-natured to do so much for you, Harry.” 

“ I think you are, Jue; you are a thoroughly good sort of girl 
when you like to be — that’s a fact. And now you will see wheth- 
er what I have said about Miss Rosewarne is all gammon or not.” 

“ My poor boy, I wouldn’t say a word against her for the 
world. Do I want my head wrenched off ? But if any one says 
anything to me about what I may do to-day, I shall have to tell 
the truth ; and do you know what that is, Harry? I do really 
believe you are in love with that girl, past all argument ; and there 
never was one of your family who would listen to reason. I know 
quite well what you will do. If she cares ever so little for you, 
you will marry her in spite of everybody, and probably against 
her own wish ; if she doesn’t care for you, you will revenge your- 
self on the happy man of her choice, and probably murder him. 
Well, it isn’t my fault. I know what your mother will say — ” 

“ Ah, you don’t know, Jue, what my mother thinks of her,” 
he said confidently. 

“ Oh yes ; mothers think very well of a girl until they discover 
that she is going to marry their son.” 

“ Oh, stuff ! why, the inconsistency — ” 

“ It is the privilege of women to be inconsistent, Harry. Your 
mother will detest that girl if you try to marry her.” 

“ I don’t care.” 

“Of course not. No man of your family cares for anything 
that interferes with his own wishes. I suppose there’s no use in 
my trying to show you what a fearful amount of annoyance and 
trouble you are preparing for yourself ?” 

“ None ; I’ll take it as it comes — I’m not afraid.” 

They got down to the promenade ; the forenoon was now bright 
and cheerful ; a good many folks had come out to enjoy the 
sunlight and the cool sea-breeze. Miss Juliott was not at all dis- 
inclined to walk there with her handsome cousin, though he had 
forgotten his gloves, and was clearly not paying her very special 
attention. 

“Jue,” he said, suddenly, “I can see Miss Rosewarne — right 
at the end of this road — can’t you ?” 

“ I haven’t got the eyes of a hawk, you stupid boy,” his cousin 
said. 

“ Oh, but I can recognize her dress a dozen times as far away. 


THE CUT DIRECT. 


191 


These are her pet colors at present — a soft cream-color and black, 
with bits of dark red — can you see now ?” 

“ I never before saw you pay the least attention to a lady’; 
dress.” 

“ Because you don’t know how she dresses,” he said, proudly. 

She was coming along the parade, all alone. 

“Well, it is a pretty dress,” Miss Juliott said, “and I like the 
look of her face, Harry. You can’t expect one girl to say any 
more than that of another girl, can you ?” 

“ This is a very nice way of being able to introduce you,” he 
said. “ I suppose you will be able to chaperon each other after- 
wards, when her mother can’t go out ?” 

Wenna was coming quietly along, apparently rather preoccu- 
pied. Sometimes she looked out, with her dark, earnest, and yet 
wistful eyes, at the great plain of water quivering in the sunshine ; 
she paid little heed to the people who went by. When, at length, 
she did see Harry Trelyon, she was quite near him, and she had 
just time to glance for a moment at his companion. The next 
moment — he could not tell how it all happened — she passed him 
with a slight bow of recognition, courteous enough, but nothing 
more. There was no especial look of friendliness in her eyes. 

He stood there, rather bewildered. 

“ That is about as good as the cut direct, Harry,” his cousin 
said. “ Come along — don’t stand there.” 

“Oh, but there’s some mistake, Jue,” he said. 

“ A girl never does a thing of that sort by mistake. Either 
she is vexed with you for walking with me — and that is improb- 
able, for I doubt whether she saw me — or she thinks the ardor 
of your acquaintance should be moderated, and there I should 
agree with her. You don’t seem so vexed as one might have ex- 
pected, Harry.” 

“Vexed!” he said. “Why, can’t you tell by that girl’s face 
that she could do nothing capricious or unkind ? Of course she 
has a reason ; and I will find it out.” 


192 


THREE FEATHERS, 


CHAPTER XXV. 

NOT THE LAST WORD. 

As soon as he could decently leave his cousin at home, he did ; 
and then he walked hastily down to the house in which Mrs. 
Rosewarne had taken rooms. Miss Rosewarne was not at home, 
the small maid-servant said. Was Mrs. Rosewarne ? Yes; so he 
would see her. 

He went up-stairs, never thinking how his deep trouble about 
so insignificant an incident would strike a third person. 

“ Mrs. Rosewarne,” he said, right out, “ I want you to tell me 
if Wenna wishes our acquaintance to end. Has she been speak- 
ing to you ? Just now she passed me in the street as if she did 
not wish to see me again.” 

“ Probably,” replied Mrs. Rosewarne, amused as well as sur- 
prised by the young man’s impetuosity, “she did not see you, 
then. Wenna often passes people so. Most likely she was think- 
ing about other things ; for she had another letter from Jamaica 
just before she went out.” 

“ Oh, she has had another letter from Jamaica this morning !” 
Trelyon said, with an angry light appearing in his eyes. “ That 
is it, is it ?” 

“ I don’t understand you,” Mrs. Rosewarne was saying, when 
both of them heard Wenna enter below. 

“ Mrs. Rosewarne,” he said, with a sudden entreaty in his voice, 
“ would you mind letting me see Wenna alone for a couple of 
minutes? I want to ask her if she is offended with me — you 
won’t mind, will you ?” 

“Not in the least,” she said, good-naturedly ; and then she 
added, at the door, “ Mind, Mr. Trelyon, Wenna is easily hurt. 
You must speak gently to her.” 

About a minute afterwards, Wenna, having laid her hat and 
shawl aside, came into the room. When she found Trelyon there, 
alone, she almost shrank back, and her face paled somewhat; 


NOT THE LAST WORD. 


19 : 


then she forced herself to go forward and shake hands with him, 
though her face still wore a frightened and constrained look. 

“ Wenna,” he said, “ don’t go away. I want to speak to you 
for a minute. You are offended with me about something, and 
I want you to tell me why. If you wish our friendship to cease, 
say so, and I will obey you ; but you must tell me why first.” 

“ I am not offended with you, Mr. Trelyon,” she said, in a low 
and nervous voice. “ Do not think that. But — but I think it will 
be better if you will let our friendship cease, as you say.” 

For a second he stared : then something of firmness came about 
his mouth. 

“ Oh no,” he said, “ I will not, in this fashion. You’ve got 
to tell me what is the matter first. Now remember this. Not 
very long ago you chose to quarrel with me about nothing — ab- 
solutely about nothing. You know quite well that I meant no 
harm to you by lending Mr. Roscorla that money ; yet you must 
needs flare up and give it me as hot as you could, all for noth- 
ing. What could I do ? Why, only wait until you saw what a 
mistake you had made.” 

“ It was very wrong of me,” she said. “ I ask your forgive- 
ness. But now it is quite different. I am not angry with you 
at all. I should like to remain your friend ; and yet I think it 
better not. I — I cannot explain to you, Mr. Trelyon ; and I am 
sure you won’t ask me, when I say so.” 

He looked at her for a moment, and then he said, gently and 
yet firmly — 

“ Look here, Wenna. You think I am only a boy. That may 
or may not be; but I am going to talk reasonably to you for 
once. Come over to this chair by the window, and sit down.” 

She followed him in passive obedience. She took the one 
chair, he the other. 

“ Perhaps I am only a boy,” he said ; “ but I have knocked 
about a good deal, and I have kept my eyes as wide open as most 
folks. I suppose ill-natured people might say that, as I had 
nothing to do at Eglosilyan, I wanted to have a flirtation with 
the only girl who was handy. I know better. Year after year 
I saw more and more of you, bit by bit; and that after I had 
been abroad or living in other places in England from time to 
time. I got to believe that I had never seen anywhere any girl 
or woman who was so honest as you are, and good in a dozen 
13 


194 


THREE FEATHERS. 


secret ways that needed a deal of discovering. I found out far 
more about you than you imagined. I heard of you in cottages 
that you never knew I was in ; and everything I heard made me 
respect you more and more. Mind this, too. I had no sort of 
personal liking for the sort of thing you were doing. I don’t 
admire muggy little rooms, and poverty and sick people, as ap- 
pealing to a fine sentiment. There never was anything of the 
parson or of the benevolent old lady about me. I would rather give 
half a crown to an impertinent little school-boy who had just 
whopped another boy bigger than himself than give a half-penny 
tract to a sickly infant in its mother’s arms ; that’s original sin 
in me, I suppose. But all that squalid sort of work you were in 
only made the jewel shine the more. I used to think I should 
like to marry a very grand woman, who could be presented at 
Court without a tremor, who would come into a drawing-room as 
if she were conferring a favor on the world at large; and I cer- 
tainly never thought I should find the best woman I had ever 
seen in back-kitchens sewing pinafores for children. And then, 
when I found her there, wasn’t it natural I should put some store 
by her friendship ? I suppose you didn’t know what I thought 
of you,Wenna, because I kept chaffing you and Mabyn? I have 
told you something of it now ; and now I want you to sa^ wheth- 
er you have a right to shunt me off like this without a word of 
explanation.” 

She sat quite still, silent and nervous. The rude and impetu- 
ous eloquence of his speech, broken by many a hesitating stam- 
mer, had touched her. There was more thoughtfulness and ten- 
derness in this wild lad than she had supposed. 

“How can I explain?” she burst out, suddenly. “I should 
cover myself with shame !” 

“And what have you to be ashamed of?” he said, with a 
stare. 

The distress she was obviously suffering was so great that he 
had almost a mind to take her at her word, and leave the house 
without further ado. Just at this moment, when he was consid- 
ering what would be the most generous thing to do, she seemed 
to nerve herself to speak to him, and in a low and measured voice 
she said — 

“Yes, I will tell you. I have had a letter this morning from 
Mr. Roscorla. He asks me if it is true that you are paying me 


NOT THE LAST WORD. 


195 


such. attention that people notice it; and he asks me if that is how 
I keep my promise to him.” 

Something like a quiver of rage passed through the young man 
at this moment, but his teeth were kept firmly together. She 
did not look up to his face. 

“ That is not all. I must tell you that I was deeply shocked 
and grieved by this letter ; but on looking back over the past six 
weeks I think a suspicious person might have been justified in 
complaining to Mr. Roscorla. And — and — and, Mr. Trelyon, did 
you see that dried flower in my Prayer-book last night ?” 

Her resolution was fast ebbing away ; he could see that her 
hands were clasped piteously together. 

“Yes, I did,” he said, boldly. 

“ And oh ! what could you have thought of me !” she cried, in 
her distress. “ Indeed, Mr. Trelyon, it was all a mistake. I did 
not keep the flower — I did not, indeed. And when I thought 
you had seen it, I could have died for shame.” 

“ And why ?” he said, in a way that made her lift up her star- 
tled eyes to his face. There was a strange look there, as of a man 
who had suddenly resolved to dare his fate. “ For you have been 
frank with me, and so will I be with you. Why should you not 
have kept that flower? Yes, I sent it to you; and with all the 
purpose that such a thing could carry. Yes, you may be as angry 
as you please ; only listen, Wenna. You don’t love that man 
whom you are engaged to marry ; you know in your heart that 
you do not believe in his love for you ; and are you surprised that 
people should wish to have you break off an engagement that will 
only bring you misery ?” 

“ Mr. Trelyon !” 

“Wenna, one minute — you must hear me. Do with my offer 
what you like — only here it is: give me the power to break off 
this engagement, and I will. Give me the right to do that! 
Don’t mind me in the matter. It is true I love you — there, I 
will say it again : there is nothing I think of from morning till 
night but my love for you ; and if you would say that some time 
I might ask you to be my wife, you would give me more happi- 
ness than you could dream of. But I don’t wish that now. I 
will remain your friend, if you like, Wenna ; only let me do this 
thing for you ; and when you are free, you can then say Yes or 
No.” 


196 


THREE FEATHERS. 


She rose, not proud and indignant, but weeping bitterly. 

“ I have deserved this,” she said, apparently overwhelmed with 
mortification and self-reproach. “ I have earned this shame, and 
I must bear it. I do not blame you, Mr. Trelyon — it is I who 
have done this. How many weeks is it since the man left Eng- 
land to whom I promised to be faithful ? and already — but this 
I can do, Mr. Trelyon : I will bid you good-bye now, and I will 
never see you again.” 

Her face was quite pale. She held out her hand. 

“ No,” he said firmly. “ We do not part like that, Wenna. 
First, let me say that you have nothing to accuse yourself of. 
You have done nothing, and said nothing, of which any man, 
however mean and suspicious, could complain. Perhaps I was 
too hasty in speaking of my love for you. In that case I’ve got 
to pay for my folly.” 

“ And it is folly, Mr. Trelyon !” she said, passionately, and yet 
with nothing but tenderness in her face. “ How could you have 
thought of marrying me ? Why, the future that ought to lie be- 
fore you is far more than you can imagine yet ; and you would 
go and hamper it by marrying an innkeeper’s daughter! It is 
folly, indeed ; and you will see that very soon. But — but I am 
very sorry ah this has occurred ; it is another grief to me that I 
have troubled you. I think I was born to bring grief to all my 
friends.” 

He was anxiously debating what he should do ; and he needed 
all his wits at that moment, for his own feelings were strong 
within him, and clamoring for expression. Would he insist? 
Would he bear down all opposition? Happily, quieter counsels 
prevailed ; for there was no mistaking the absolute truthfulness 
of what the girl had said. 

“ Well, Wenna,” he said, “ I will do anything you like, only to 
remain your friend. Is that possible ? Will you forgive all that 
I have said if I make you a promise not to repeat it, and never 
again to mention your engagement to Mr. Roscorla ?” 

“ No, we must part now altogether,” she said slowly. Then, 
by haphazard, she glanced up at his face for a moment, and there 
was a great sadness in her eyes. “ It is a hard thing to part. 
Perhaps it will not be necessary that you should never come to 
see me. But we must not be friends as we have been ; for I have 
my duty to do towards him.” 


NOT THE LAST WORD. 


197 


11 Then I may come to see you sometimes V y 

She hesitated. 

“You may come to see my mother sometimes. And I will 
always think of you as a dear friend, whether I see you or not.” 

He went outside, and drew a long breath. 

“ I had to keep a tight grip on the reins that time,” he was 
thinking to himself ; “ a precious tight grip ; but I did it.” 

He thought of the look there was in her eyes when she finally 
bid him good-bye. His face grew the happier as he thought of 
it. He was clearly not at all downhearted about his rejection ; 
on the contrary, he went and told his Cousin Juliott that the little 
affair of the morning had been quite satisfactorily arranged ; that 
Miss Wenna and he were very good friends again ; and that it was 
quite a mistake to imagine that she was already married to Mr. 
Roscorla. 

“Harry,” said his cousin, “I strictly forbid you to mention 
that gentleman’s name.” 

“ Why, Jue ?” he said. 

“ Because I will not listen to the bad language you invariably 
use whenever you speak of him ; and you ought to remember 
that you are in a clergyman’s house. I wonder Miss Rosewarne 
is not ashamed to have your acquaintance ; but I dare say you 
amend your ways when you are in her presence. She’ll have 
plenty to reform if ever she takes you for a husband.” 

“ That’s true enough, Jue,” the young man said, penitently. 
“ I believe I’m a bad lot ; but then, look at the brilliant contrast 
which the future will present. You know that my old grand- 
mother is always saying to me, ‘ Harry, you were born with as 
many manners as most folks; and you’ve used none; so you’ll 
have a rare stock to come and go on when you begin.’ ” 


198 


THREE FEATHERS. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A PERILOUS TRUCE. 

The very stars in their courses seemed to fight for this young 
man. 

No sooner had Wenna Rosewarne fled to her own room, there 
to think over in a wild and bewildered way all that had just hap- 
pened, than her heart smote her sorely. She had not acted pru- 
dently. She had forgotten her self-respect. She ought to have 
forbidden him to come near her again — at least until such time 
as this foolish fancy of his should have passed away and been 
forgotten. 

How could she have parted with him so calmly, and led him to 
suppose that their former relations were unaltered? She looked 
back on the forced quietude of her manner, and was herself as- 
tonished. Now her heart was beating rapidly ; her trembling 
fingers were unconsciously twisting and untwisting a bit of rib- 
bon ; her head seemed giddy with the recollection of that brief 
and strange interview. Then, somehow, she thought of the look 
on his face when she told him that henceforth they must be 
strangers to each other. It seemed hard that he should be badly 
used for what was, perhaps, no intentional fault. If anybody had 
been in fault, it was herself, in being blind to a possibility to 
which even her own sister had drawn her attention ; and so the 
punishment ought to fall on her. 

She would humble herself before Mr. Roscorla. She would 
force herself to be affectionate towards him in her letters. She 
would even write to Mabyn, and beg of her to take no notice of 
that angry remonstrance. 

Then Wenna thought of her mother, and how she ought to tell 
her of all these things. But how could she ? During the past 
day or two Mrs. Rosewarne had been at times singularly fretful 
and anxious. No letter had come from her husband. In vain 
did Wenna remind her that men were more careless of such small 
matters than women, and that it was too soon to expect her father 


A PERILOUS TRUCE. 


199 


to sit down and write. Mrs. Rosewarne sat brooding over her 
husband’s silence ; then she would get up in an excited fashion 
and declare her intention of going straight back to Eglosilyan ; 
and these fitful moods preyed on the health of the invalid. Ought 
Wenna to risk increasing her anxiety by telling her this strange 
tale ? She would doubtless misunderstand it. She might be an- 
gry with Harry Trelyon. She would certainly be surprised that 
Wenna had given him permission to see her again — not knowing 
that the girl, in her forced composure, had been talking to him as 
if this avowal of his were of no great moment. 

All the same Wenna had a secret fear that she had been im- 
prudent in giving him this permission ; and the most she could 
do now was to make his visits as few, short, and ceremonious as 
possible. She would avoid him by every means in her power; 
and the first thing was to make sure that he should not call on 
them again while they remained in Penzance. 

So she went down to the small parlor in a much more equable 
frame of mind, though her heart was still throbbing in an un- 
usual way. The moment she entered the room she saw that 
something had occurred to disturb her mother. Mrs. Rosewarne 
turned from the window, and there was an excited look in her 
eyes. 

“Wenna,” she said, hurriedly, “did you see that carriage? 
Did you see that woman ? Who was with her ? Did you see 
who was with her ? I know it was she — not if I live a hundred 
years could I forget that — that devil in human shape !” 

“ Mother, I don’t know what you mean,” Wenna said, wholly 
aghast. 

Her mother had gone to the window again, and she was saying 
to herself, hurriedly, and in a low voice — 

“ No, you don’t know ; you don’t know — why should you know ? 
That shameless creature ! And to drive by here — she must have 
known I was here. Oh, the shamelessness of the woman !” 

She turned to Wenna again. 

“ Wenna, I thought Mr. Trelyon was here. How long has he 
been gone ? I want to see him most particularly — most particu- 
larly, and only for a moment. He is sure to know all the strangers 
at his hotel, is he not? I want to ask him some questions — 
Wenna, will you go at once and bid him come to see me for a 
moment ?” 


200 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Mother !” Wenna said — how could she go to the hotel with 
such a message ? 

“ Well, send a note to him, Wenna — send a note by the girl 
down-stairs. What harm is there in that ?” 

“ Lie down then, mother,” said the girl calmly, “ and I will 
send a message to Mr. Trelyon.” 

She drew her chair to the table, and her cheeks crimsoned to 
think of what he might imagine this letter to mean when he got 
the envelope in his hands. Her fingers trembled as she wrote the 
date at the head of the note. Then she came to the word “ Dear,” 
and it seemed to her that if shame were a punishment, she was 
doing sufficient penance for her indiscretion of that morning. 
Yet the note was not a compromising one. It merely said, 
“ Dear Mr. Trelyon, — If you have a moment to spare, my mother 
would be most obliged to you if you would call on her. I hope 
you will forgive the trouble. — Yours sincerely, Wenna Rosewarne.” 

When the young man got that note — he was just entering the 
hotel when the servant arrived — he stared with surprise. He told 
the girl he would call on Mrs. Rosewarne directly. Then he fol- 
lowed her. 

He never for a moment doubted that this note had reference 
to his own affairs. Wenna had told her mother what had hap- 
pened. The mother wished to see him to ask him to cease visit- 
ing them. Well, he was prepared for that. He would ask Wenna 
to leave the room. He would attack the mother boldly, and tell 
her what he thought of Mr. Roscorla. He would appeal to her 
to save her daughter from the impending marriage. He would 
win her over to be his secret ally and friend ; and while nothing 
should be done precipitately to alarm Wenna or arouse her sus- 
picions, might not these two carry the citadel of her heart in 
time, and hand over the keys to the rightful lord ? It was a 
pleasant speculation ; it was at least marked by that audacity 
that never wholly forsook Master Harry Trelyon. Of course, he 
was the rightful lord ; ready to bid all false claimants, rivals, and 
pretenders beware. 

And yet, as he walked up to the house, some little tremor of 
anxiety crept into his heart. It was no mere game of brag in 
which he was engaged. As he went into the parlor, Wenna step- 
ped quietly by him, her eyes downcast ; and he knew that all he 
cared to look forward to in the world depended on the decision 


A PERILOUS TRUCE. 


201 


of that quiet little person with the sensitive mouth and the ear- 
nest eyes. Fighting was not of much use there. 

“ Well, Mrs. Rosewarne,” said he, rather shamefacedly, “ I sup- 
pose you mean to scold me ?” 

Her answer surprised him. She took no heed of his remark, 
but in a vehement, excited way began to ask him questions about 
a woman whom she described. He stared at her. 

“ I hope you don’t know anything about that elegant creature ?” 
he said. 

She did not wholly tell him the story, but left him to guess at 
some portions of it; and then she demanded to know all about 
the woman and her companion, and how long they had been in 
Penzance, and where they were going. Master Harry was by 
chance able to reply to certain of her questions. The answers 
comforted her greatly. Was he quite sure that she was married? 
What was her husband’s name ? She was no longer Mrs. Shirley ? 
Would he find out all he could? Would he forgive her asking 
him to take all this trouble ; and would he promise to say no 
word about it to Wenna ? 

When all this had been said and done, the young man felt him- 
self considerably embarrassed. Was there to be no mention of his 
own affairs ? So far from remonstrating with him and forbidding 
him the house, Mrs. Rosewarne was almost effusively grateful to 
him, and could only beg him a thousand times not to mention the 
subject to her daughter. 

“ Oh, of course not,” said he, rather bewildered. “ But — but 
I thought from the way in which she left the room that — that 
perhaps I had offended her.” 

“ Oh no, I am sure that is not the case,” said Mrs. Rosewarne, 
and she immediately went and called Wenna, who came into the 
room with rather an anxious look on her face, but she immedi- 
ately perceived the change in her mother’s mood. The demon of 
suspicion and jealousy had been as suddenly exorcised as it had 
been summoned. Mrs. Rosewarne’s fine eyes were lit by quite a 
new brightness and gayety of spirits. She bade Wenna declare 
what fearful cause of offence Mr. Trelyon had given ; and laughed 
when the young man, blushing somewhat, hastily assured both of 
them that it was all a stupid mistake of his own. 

“ Oh yes,” Wenna said, rather nervously, “ it is a mistake. I 
am sure you have given me no offence at all, Mr. Trelyon.” 


202 


THREE FEATHERS. 


It was an embarrassing moment for two, at least, out of these 
three persons ; and Mrs. Rosewarne, in her abundant good-nature, 
could not understand their awkward silence. Wenna was appar- 
ently looking out of the window at the bright blue bay and the 
boats ; and yet the girl was not ordinarily so occupied when Mr. 
Trelyon was present. As for him, he had got his hat in his 
hands ; he seemed to be much concerned about it, or about his 
boots; one did not often find Harry Trelyon actually showing 
shyness. 

At last he said, desperately — 

“ Mrs. Rosewarne, perhaps you would go out for a sail in the 
afternoon ? I could get you a nice little yacht, and some rods and 
lines. Won’t you?” 

Mrs. Rosewarne was in a kindly humor. She said she would be 
very glad to go, for Wenna was growing tired of always sitting by 
the window. This would be some little variety for her. 

“ I hope you won’t consider me, mother,” said the young lady 
quickly, and with some asperity. “ I am quite pleased to sit by 
the window — I could do so always. And it is very wrong of us 
to take up so much of Mr. Trelyon’s time.” 

“Because Mr. Trelyon’s time is of so much use to him,” said 
that young man, with a laugh ; and then he told them when to 
expect him in the afternoon, and went his way. 

He was in much better spirits when he went out. He whistled 
as he went. The plash of the blue sea all along the shingle 
seemed to have a sort of laugh in it; he was in love with Pen- 
zance and all its beautiful neighborhood. Once again, he was say- 
ing to himself, he would spend a quiet and delightful afternoon 
with Wenna Rosewarne, even if that were to be the last. He 
would surrender himself to the gentle intoxication of her presence. 
He would get a glimpse, from time to time, of her dark eyes when 
she was looking wistfully and absently over the sea. It was no 
breach of the implied contract with her that he should have seized 
this occasion. He had been sent for. And if it was necessary 
that he should abstain from seeing her for any great length of 
time, why this single afternoon would not make much difference. 
Afterwards he would obey her wishes in any manner she pleased. 

He walked into the hotel. There was a gentleman standing in 
the hall whose acquaintance Master Harry had condescended to 
make. He was a person of much money, uncertain grammar, and 


A PERILOUS TRUCE. 


203 


oppressive generosity ; lie wore a frilled shirt and diamond studs, 
and he had such a vast admiration for this handsome, careless, and 
somewhat rude young man that he would have been very glad 
had Mr. Trelyon dined with him every evening, and taken the 
trouble to win any reasonable amount of money of him at billiards 
afterwards. Mr. Trelyon had not as yet graced his table. 

“ Oh, Grainger,” said the young man, “ I want to speak to you. 
Will you dine with me to-night at eight ?” 

“ No, no, no,” said Mr. Grainger, shaking his head in humble 
protest, “ that isn’t fair. You dine with me? It ain’t the first or 
the second time of asking either.” 

“ But look here,” said Trelyon, “ I’ve got lots more to ask of 
you. I want you to lend me that little cutter of yours for the 
afternoon ; will you ? You send your man on board to see she’s 
all right, and I’ll pull out to her in about half an hour’s time. 
You’ll do that, won’t you, like a good fellow ?” 

Mr. Grainger was not only willing to lend the yacht, but also 
his own services, to see that she properly received so distinguished 
a guest; whereupon Trelyon had to explain that he wanted the 
small craft merely to give a couple of ladies a sail for an hour or 
so. Then Mr. Grainger would have his man instructed to let the 
ladies have some tea on board ; and he would give Master Harry the 
key of certain receptacles, in which he would find cans of preserved 
meat, fancy biscuits, jam, and even a few bottles of dry Sillery ; 
finally, he would immediately hurry off to see about fishing-rods. 
Trelyon had to acknowledge to himself that this worthy person 
deserved the best dinner that the hotel could produce. 

In the afternoon he walked along to fetch Mrs. Rosewarne and 
her daughter, his face bright with expectation. Mrs. Rosewarne 
was dressed and ready when he went in ; but she said — 

“I am afraid I can’t go, Mr. Trelyon. Wenna says she is a 
little tired, and would rather stay at home.” 

“ Wenna, that isn’t fair,” he said, obviously hurt. “ You ought 
to make some little effort when you know it will do your mother 
good. And it will do you good too, if only you make up your 
mind to go.” 

She hesitated for a moment ; she saw that her mother was dis- 
appointed. Then, without a word, she went and put on her hat 
and shawl. 

“ Well,” he said, approvingly, “ you are very reasonable, and 


204 


THREE FEATHERS. 


very obedient. But we can’t have you go with us with such a face 
as that. People would say we were going to a funeral.” 

A shy smile came over the gentle features, and she turned 
aside. 

“And we can’t have you pretend that we forced you to go. If 
we go at all, you must lead the way.” 

“You would tease the life out of a saint!” she said, with a 
vexed and embarrassed laugh, and then she marched out before 
them, very glad to be able to conceal her heightened color. 

But much of her reserve vanished when they had set sail, and 
when the small cutter was beginning to make way through the 
light and plashing waves. Wenna’s face brightened. She no 
longer let her two companions talk exclusively to each other. She 
began to show a great curiosity about the little yacht ; she grew 
anxious to have the lines flung out; no words of hers could ex- 
press her admiration for the beauty of the afternoon and of the 
scene around her. 

“ Now are you glad you came out ?” he said to her. 

“Yes,” she answered, shyly. 

“ And you’ll take my advice another time ?” 

“ Do you ever take any one’s advice ?” she said, venturing to 
look up. 

“ Yes, certainly,” he answered, “ when it agrees with my own 
inclination. Who ever does any more than that ?” 

They were now a good bit away from land. 

“ Skipper,” said Trelyon to Mr. Grainger’s man, “ we’ll put her 
about now, and let her drift. Here is a cigar for you ; you can 
take it up to the bow and smoke it, and keep a good lookout for 
the sea-serpent.” 

By this arrangement they obtained, as they sat and idly talked, 
an excellent view of all the land around the bay, and of the pale, 
clear sunset shining in the western skies. They lay almost mo- 
tionless in the lapping water ; the light breeze scarcely stirred the 
loose canvas. From time to time they could hear a sound of 
calling or laughing from the distant fishing-boats ; and that only 
seemed to increase the silence around them. 

It was an evening that invited to repose and reverie ; there 
were not even the usual fiery colors of the sunset to arouse and 
fix attention by their rapidly changing and glowing hues. The 
town itself, lying darkly all around the sweep of the bay, was dusky 


A PERILOUS TRUCE. 


205 


and distant; elsewhere all the world seemed to be flooded with 
the silver light coming over from behind the western hills. The 
sky was of the palest blue ; the long mackerel clouds that stretched 
across were of the faintest yellow and lightest gray ; and into that 
shining gray rose the black stems of the trees that were just over 
the outline of these low heights. St. Michael’s Mount had its 
summit touched by the pale glow ; the rest of the giant rock and 
the far stretches of sea around it were gray with mist. But close 
by the boat there was a sharper light on the lapping waves and on 
the tall spars ; while it was warm enough to heighten the color on 
Wenna’s face as she sat and looked silently at the great and open 
world around her. 

They were drifting in more ways than one. Wenna almost 
forgot what had occurred in the morning. She was so pleased to 
see her mother pleased that she talked quite unreservedly to the 
young man who had wrought the change, and was ready to believe 
all that Mrs. Rosewarne said in private about his being so delight- 
ful and cheerful a companion. As for him, he was determined to 
profit by this last opportunity. If the strict rules of honor de- 
manded that Mr. Roscorla should have fair play — or if Wenna 
wished him to absent himself, which was of more consequence 
than Mr. Roscorla’s interests — he would make his visits few and 
formal ; but in the mean time, at least, they would have this one 
pleasant afternoon together. Sometimes, it is true, he rebelled 
against the uncertain pledge he had given her. Why should he 
not seek to win her ? What had the strict rules of honor to do 
with the prospect of a young girl allowing herself to be sacrificed, 
while here he was able and willing to snatch her away from her 
fate? 

“ How fond you are of the sea and of boats !” he said to her. 
“ Sometimes I think I shall have a big schooner yacht built for 
myself, and take her to the Mediterranean, going from place to 
place just as one took the fancy. But it would be very dull by 
yourself, wouldn’t it, even if you had a dozen men on board? 
What you want is to have a small party all very friendly with each 
other, and at night you would sit up on deck and sing songs. 
And I think you would like those old-fashioned songs that you 
sing, Miss Wenna, all the better for hearing them so far away from 
home — at least, I should; but then I’m an outer barbarian. I 
think you, now, would be delighted with the grand music abroad 


206 


THREE FEATHERS. 


— with the operas, you know, and all that. I’ve had to knock 
about these places with people ; but I don’t care about it. I would 
rather hear ‘ Norah, the Pride of Kildare,’ or 4 The Maid of Llan- 
gollen’ — because, I suppose, these young women are more in my 
line. You see, I shouldn’t care to make the acquaintance of a 
gorgeous creature with black hair and a train of yellow satin half 
a mile long, who tosses up a gilt goblet when she sings a drinking- 
song, and then gets into a frightful passion about what you don’t 
understand. Wouldn’t you rather meet the ‘ Maid of Llangollen ’ 
coming along a country road — coming in by Marazion over there, 
for example — with a bright print dress all smelling of lavender, and 
a basket of fresh eggs over her arm? Well — what was I saying? 
Oh yes ! don’t you think if you were away in the Adriatic, and 
sitting up on deck at night, you would make the people have a 
quiet cry when you sang ‘Home, sweet home?’ The words are 
rather silly, aren’t they ? But they make you think of such a lot 
if you hear them abroad.” 

“And when are you going away this year, Mr. Trelyon?” 
Wenna said, looking down. 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” he said, cheerfully ; he would have no 
question of his going away interfere with the happiness of the 
present moment. 

At length, however, they had to bethink themselves of getting 
back, for the western skies were deepening in color, and the even- 
ing air was growing chill. They ran the small cutter back to her 
moorings ; then they put off in the small boat for the shore. It 
was a beautiful, quiet evening. Wenna, who had taken off her 
glove and was allowing her bare hand to drag through the rippling 
water, seemed to be lost in distant and idle fancies not altogether 
of a melancholy nature. 

“ Wenna,” her mother said, “ you will get your hand perfectly 
chilled.” 

The girl drew back her hand, and shook the water off her drip- 
ping fingers. Then she uttered a slight cry. 

“ My ring !” she said, looking with absolute fright at her hand 
and then at the sea. 

Of course, they stopped the boat instantly ; but all they could 
do was to stare at the clear, dark water. The distress of the girl 
was beyond expression. This was no ordinary trinket that had 
been lost; it was a gage of plighted affection given her by one 


A PERILOUS TRUCE. 


207 


now far away, and in his absence she had carelessly flung it into 
the sea. She had no fear of omens, as her sister had ; but surely, 
of all things in the world, she ought to have treasured up this 
ring. In spite of herself, tears sprang to her eyes. Her mother 
in vain attempted to make light of the loss. And then at last 
Harry Trelyon, driven almost beside himself by seeing the girl so 
plunged in grief, hit upon a wild fashion of consoling her. 

“ Wenna,” he said, “ don’t disturb yourself ! Why, we can 
easily get you the ring. Look at the rocks there — a long bank 
of smooth sand slopes out from them, and your ring is quietly 
lying upon the sand. There is nothing easier than to get it up 
with a dredging-machine — I will undertake to let you have it by 
to-morrow afternoon.” 

Mrs. Rosewarne thought he was joking ; but he effectually per- 
suaded Wenna, at all events, that she should have her ring next 
day. Then he discovered that he would be just in time to catch 
the half-past six train to Plymouth, where he would get the prop- 
er apparatus, and return in the morning. 

“ It was a pretty ring,” said he. “ There were six stones in it, 
weren’t there ?” 

“ Five,” she said : so much she knew, though it must be con- 
fessed she had not studied that token of Mr. Roscorla’s affection 
with the earnest solicitude which most young ladies bestow on 
the first gift of their lover. 

Trelyon jumped into a fly and drove off to the station, where 
he sent back an apology to Mr. Grainger. Wenna went home 
more perturbed than she had been for many a day, and that not 
solely on account of the lost ring. 

Everything seemed to conspire against her, and keep her from 
carrying out her honorable resolutions. That sail in the after- 
noon she could not well have avoided ; but she had determined 
to take some opportunity of begging Mr. Trelyon not to visit 
them again while they remained in Penzance. Now, however, he 
was coming next day ; and, whether or not he was successful in 
his quest after the missing ring, would she not have to show her- 
self abundantly grateful for all his kindness ? 

In putting away her gloves she came upon the letter of Mr. 
Roscorla, which she had not yet answered. She shivered slight- 
ly : the handwriting on the envelope seemed to reproach her. 
And yet something of a rebellious spirit rose in her against this 


208 


THREE FEATHERS. 


imaginary accusation ; and she grew angry that she was called 
upon to serve this harsh and inconsiderate taskmaster, and give 
him explanations which humiliated her. He had no right to ask 
questions about Mr. Trelyon. He ought not to have listened to 
idle gossip. He should have had sufficient faith in her promised 
word ; and if he only knew the torture of doubt and anxiety she 
was suffering on his behalf — 

She did not pursue these speculations further ; but it was well 
with Mr. Roscorla that she did not at that moment sit down and 
answer his letter. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

FURTHER ENTANGLEMENTS. 

“ Mother,” said Wenna, that night, “ what vexed you so this 
morning? Who was the woman who went by?” 

“ Don’t ask me, Wenna,” the mother said, rather uneasily. “ It 
would do you no good to know. And you must not speak of 
that woman — she is too horrid a creature to be mentioned by a 
young girl ever.” 

Wenna looked surprised; and then she said, warmly — 

“ And if she is so, mother, how could you ask Mr. Trelyon to 
have anything to do with her ? Why should you send for him ? 
Why should he be spoken to about her ?” 

“ Mr. Trelyon !” her mother said, impatiently. “You seem to 
have no thought now for anybody but Mr. Trelyon. Surely the 
young man can take care of himself.” 

The reproof was just ; the justice of it was its sting. She was 
indeed thinking too much about the young man, and her mother 
was right in saying so ; but who was to understand the extreme 
anxiety that possessed her to bring these dangerous relations to 
an end? 

On the following afternoon Wenna, sitting alone at the window, 
heard Trelyon enter below. The young person who had charge 
of such matters allowed him to go up the stairs and announce 
himself as a matter of course. He tapped at the door, and came 
into the room. 


FURTHER ENTANGLEMENTS. 


209 


“Where’s your mother, Wenna? The girl said she was here. 
However, never mind — I’ve brought you something that will as- 
tonish you. What do you think of that ?” 

She scarcely looked at the ring, so great was her embarrassment. 
That the present of one lover should be brought back to her by 
another was an awkward, almost a humiliating, circumstance. Yet 
she was glad as well as ashamed. 

“ Oh, Mr. Trelyon, how can I thank you?” she said, in her low, 
earnest voice. “ All you seem to care for is to make other people 
happy — and the trouble you have taken too !” 

She forgot to look at the ring — even when he pointed out how 
the washing in the sea had made it bright. She never asked 
about the dredging. Indeed, she was evidently disinclined to 
speak of this matter in any way, and kept the finger with the 
ring on it out of sight. 

“ Mr. Trelyon,” she said then, with equal steadiness of voice, “ I 
am going to ask something more from you ; and I am sure you 
will not refuse it — ” 

“ I know,” said he, hastily, “ and let me have the first word. 
I have been thinking over our position during this trip to Plym- 
outh and back. Well, I think I have become a nuisance to you 
— wait a bit, let me say my say in my own way ; I can see that 
I only embarrass you when I call on you, and that the permission 
you give me is only leading to awkwardness and discomfort. 
Mind, I don’t think you are acting fairly to yourself or to me in 
forbidding me to mention again what I told you. I know you’re 
wrong. You should let me show you what sort of a life lies be- 
fore you — but there, I promised to keep clear of that. Well, I 
will do what you like ; and if you’d rather have me stay away al- 
together, I will do that. I don’t want to be a nuisance to you. 
But mind this, Wenna, I do it because you wish it — I don’t do it 
because I think any man is bound to respect an engagement which 
— which — which, in fact, he doesn’t respect — ” 

His eloquence broke down ; but his meaning was clear. He 
stood there before her, ready to accept her decision with all meek- 
ness and obedience ; but giving her frankly to understand that he 
did not any the more countenance or consider as a binding thing 
her engagement to Mr. Roscorla. 

“ Mind you,” he said, “ I am not quite as indifferent about all 
this as I look. It isn’t the way of our family to put their hands 
14 


210 


THREE FEATHERS. 


in their pockets and wait for orders. But I can’t fight with you. 
Many a time I wish there was a man in the case — then he and I 
might have it out ; but as it is, I suppose I have got to do what 
you say, Wenna, and that’s the long and the short of it.” 

She did not hesitate. She went forward and offered him her 
hand; and with her frank eyes looking him in the face, she 
said — 

“ You have said what I wished to say, and I feared I had not 
the courage to say it. Now you are acting bravely. Perhaps at 
some future time we may become friends again — oh yes, and I do 
hope that ! — but in the mean time you will treat me as if I were a 
stranger to you !” 

“ That is quite impossible,” said he, decisively. “ You ask too 
much, Wenna.” 

“ Would not that be the simpler way ?” she said, looking at him 
again with the frank and earnest eyes; and he knew she was 
right. 

“ And the length of time ?” he said. 

“ Until Mr. Roscorla comes home again, at all events,” she 
said. 

She had touched an angry chord. 

“ What has he to do with us ?” the young man said, almost 
fiercely. “ I refuse to have him come in as arbiter or in any way 
whatever. Let him mind his own business ; and I can tell you 
when he and I come to talk over this engagement of yours — ” 

“ You promised not to speak of that,” she said quietly, and he 
instantly ceased. 

“ Well, Wenna,” he said, after a minute or two, “ I think you 
ask too much ; but you must have it your own way. I won’t annoy 
you and drive you into a corner — you may depend on that. But 
to be perfect strangers for an indefinite time ! — then you won’t 
speak to me when I see you passing to church ?” 

“ Oh yes,” she said, looking down ; “ I did not mean strangers 
like that.” 

“ And I thought,” said he, with something more than disap- 
pointment in his face, “ that when I proposed to — to relieve you 
from my visits, you would at least let us have one more afternoon 
together — only one — for a drive, you know. It would be nothing 
to you — it would be something for me to remember — ” 

She would not recognize the fact, but for a brief moment his 


FAREWELL ! 


211 


under lip quivered ; and somehow she seemed to know it, though 
she dared not look up to his face. 

“One afternoon — only one, to-morrow — next day, Wen na? 
Surely you cannot refuse me that ?” 

Then, looking at her with a great compassion in his eyes, he 
suddenly altered his tone. 

“ I think I ought to be hanged,” he said, in a vexed way. “ You 
are the only person in the world I care for, and every time I see 
you I plunge you into trouble. Well, this is the last time. Good- 
bye, Wenna !” 

Almost involuntarily she put out her hand ; but it was with the 
least perceptible gesture to bid him remain. Then she went past 
him ; and there were tears running down her face. 

“ If — if you will wait a moment,” she said, “ I will see if mam- 
ma and I can go with you to-morrow afternoon.” 

She went out and he was left alone. Each word that she had 
uttered had pierced his heart ; but which did he feel the more 
deeply — remorse that he should have insisted on this slight and 
useless concession, or bitter rage against the circumstances that 
environed them, and the man who was altogether responsible for 
these? There was now at least one person in the world who 
greatly longed for the return of Mr. Roscorla. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

FAREWELL ! 

“ Yes, it is true,” the young man said, next morning, to his 
cousin, “ this is the last time I shall see her for many a day.” 

He was standing with his back to her, moodily staring out of 
the window. 

“ Well, Harry,” his cousin said, gently enough, “ you won’t be 
hurt if I say it is a very good thing ? I am glad to see you have 
so much patience and reasonableness. Indeed, I think Miss Rose- 
warne has very much improved you in that respect ; and it is very 
good advice she has given you now.” 

“ Oh yes, it is all very well to talk !” he said, impatiently. 
“ Common-sense is precious easy when you are quite indifferent. 


212 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Of course, she is quite indifferent, and she says, ‘ Don’t trouble 
me !’ What can one do but go ? But if she was not so indiffer- 
ent—” 

He turned suddenly. 

“ Jue, you can’t tell what trouble I am in ! Do you know that 
sometimes I have fancied she was not quite so indifferent — I 
have had the cheek to think so from one or two things she said 
— and then, if that were so, it is enough to drive one mad to 
think of leaving her. How could I leave her, Jue ? If any one 
cared for you, would you quietly sneak off in order to consult 
your own comfort and convenience? Would you be patient and 
reasonable then ?” 

“ Harry, don’t talk in that excited way. Listen. She does not 
ask you to go away for your sake, but for hers.” 

“ For her sake ?” he repeated, staring. “ If she is indifferent, 
how can that matter to her ? Well, I suppose I am a nuisance to 
her — as much as I am to myself. There, it is. I am an inter- 
loper.” 

“ My poor boy,” his cousin said, with a kindly smile, “ you 
don’t know your own mind two minutes running. During this 
past week you have been blown about by all sorts of contrary 
winds of opinion and fancy. Sometimes you thought she cared 
for you — sometimes no. Sometimes you thought it a shame to 
interfere with Mr. Roscorla ; then again you grew indignant and 
would have slaughtered him. Now you don’t know whether you 
ought to go away or stop to persecute her. Don’t you think she 
is the best judge ?” 

“ No, I don’t,” he said. “ I think she is no judge of what is 
.best for her, because she never thinks of that. She wants some- 
body by her to insist on her being properly selfish.” 

“ That would be a pretty lesson.” 

“ A necessary one, anyhow, with some women, I can tell you. 
But I suppose I must go, as she says. I couldn’t bear meeting 
her about Eglosilyan, and be scarcely allowed to speak to her. 
Then when that hideous little beast comes back from Jamaica, 
fancy seeing them walk about together! I must cut the whole 
place. I shall go into the army — it’s the only profession open to 
a fool like me, and they say it won’t be long open either. When 
I come back, Jue, I suppose you’ll be Mrs. Tressider.” 

“ I am very sorry,” his cousin said, not heeding the reference 


FAREWELL ! 


213 


to herself ; “I never expected to see you so deep in trouble, Har- 
ry. But you have youth and good spirits on your side : you will 
get over it.” 

“ I suppose so,” he said, not very cheerfully ; and then he went 
off to see about the carriage which was to take Wenna and him- 
self for their last drive together. 

At the same time that he was talking to his cousin, Wenna was 
seated at her writing-desk answering Mr. Roscorla’s letter. Her 
brows were knit together ; she was evidently laboring at some dif- 
ficult and disagreeable task. Her mother, lying on the sofa, was 
regarding her with an amused look. 

“ What is the matter, Wenna? That letter seems to give you 
a deal of trouble.” 

The girl put down her pen with some trace of vexation in her 
face. 

“ Yes, indeed, mother. How is one to explain delicate matters 
in a letter ? Every phrase seems capable of misconstruction. And 
then the mischief it may cause !” 

“ But surely you don’t need to write with such care to Mr. Ros- 
corla !” 

Wenna colored slightly, and hesitated, as she answered — 

“ Well, mother, it is something peculiar. I did not wish to 
trouble you ; but after all 1 don’t think you will vex yourself 
about so small a thing. Mr. Roscorla has been told stories about 
me. He is angry that Mr. Trelyon should visit us so often. And 
— and — I am trying to explain. That is all, mother.” 

“ It is quite enough, Wenna ; but I am not surprised. Of 
course, if foolish persons liked to misconstrue Mr. Trelyon’s visits, 
they might make mischief. I see no harm in them myself. I 
suppose the young man found an evening at the inn amusing ; 
and I can see that he likes you very well, as many other people 
do. But you know how you are situated, Wenna. If Mr. Ros- 
corla objects to your continuing an acquaintance with Mr. Trelyon, 
your duty is clear.” 

“ I do not think it is, mother,” Wenna said, an indignant flush 
of color appearing in her face. “ I should not be justified in 
throwing over any friend or acquaintance merely because Mr. Ros- 
corla had heard rumors. I would not do it. He ought not to 
listen to such things — he ought to have greater faith in me. But 
at the same time I have asked Mr. Trelyon not to come here so 


214 


THREE FEATHERS. 


often — I have done so already — and after to-day, mother, the gos- 
sips will have nothing to report.” 

“ That is better, Wenna,” the mother said ; “ I shall be sorry 
myself to miss the young man, for I like him ; but it is better you 
should attend to Mr. Roscorla’s wishes. And don’t answer his let- 
ter in a vexed or angry way, Wenna.” 

She was certainly not doing so. Whatever she might be think- 
ing, a deliberate and even anxious courtesy was visible in the an- 
swer she was sending him. Her pride would not allow her to 
apologize for what had been done, in which she had seen no 
wrong; but as to the future she was earnest in her promises. 
And yet she could not help saying a good word for Trelyon. 

“ You have known him longer than I have,” she wrote, “ and 
you know what his character is. I could see nothing wrong in 
his coming to see my family and myself ; nor did you say any- 
thing against him while you saw him with us. I am sure you 
believe he is straightforward, honest, and frank ; and if his frank- 
ness sometimes verges upon rudeness, he is of late greatly im- 
proved in that respect — as in many others — and he is most re- 
spectful and gentle in his manners. As for his kindness to my 
mother and myself, we could not shut our eyes to it. Here is 
the latest instance of it ; although I feel deeply ashamed to tell 
you the story. We were returning in a small boat, and I was 
carelessly letting my hand drag through the water, when some- 
how the ring you gave me dropped off. Of course, we all con- 
sidered it lost — all except Mr. Trelyon, who took the trouble to go 
at once all the way to Plymouth for a dredging-machine, and the 
following afternoon I was overjoyed to find him return with the 
lost ring, which I had scarcely dared hope to see again. How 
many gentlemen would have done so much for a mere acquaint- 
ance? I am sure if you had been here you would have been 
ashamed of me if I had not been grateful to him. Now, however, 
since you appear to attach importance to these idle rumors, I have 
asked Mr. Trelyon — ” 

So the letter went on. She would not have written so calmly 
if she had foreseen the passion which her ingenuous story about 
the dredging-machine was destined to arouse. When Mr. Ros- 
corla read that simple narrative, he first stared with astonishment 
as though she were making some foolish joke. Directly he saw' 
she was serious, however, his rage and mortification were inde- 


FAREWELL ! 


215 


scribable. Here was this young man, not content with hanging 
about the girl so that neighbors talked, but actually imposing on 
her credulity, and making a jest of that engaged ring which ought 
to have been sacred to her. Mr. Roscorla at once saw through 
the whole affair — the trip to Plymouth, the purchasing of a gyp- 
sy ring that could have been matched a dozen times over any- 
where — the return to Penzance with a cock-and-bull story about 
a dredging-machine. So hot was his anger that it overcame his 
prudence. He would start for England at once. He had taken 
no such resolution when he heard from the friendly and com- 
municative Mr. Barnes that Mr. Trelyon’s conduct with regard to 
Wenna was causing scandal ; but this making a fool of him in 
his absence he could not bear. At any cost he would set out for 
England; arrange matters more to his satisfaction by recalling 
Wenna to a sense of her position ; then he would return to Ja- 
maica. His affairs there were already promising so well that he 
could afford the trip. 

Meanwhile Wenna had just finished her letter when Mr. Tre- 
lyon drove up with the carriage, and shortly afterwards came into 
the room. He seemed rather grave, and yet not at all sentimen- 
tally sad. He addressed himself mostly to Mrs. Rosewarne, and 
talked to her about the Port Isaac fishing, the emigration of the 
miners, and other matters. Then Wenna slipped away to get 
ready. 

“ Mrs. Rosewarne,” he said, “ you asked me to find out what I 
could about that red-faced person, you know. Well, here is an 
advertisement which may interest you. I came on it quite acci- 
dentally last night in the smoking-room of the hotel.” 

It was a marriage advertisement, cut from a paper about a week 
old. The name of the lady was “ Katherine Ann, widow of the 
late J. T. Shirley, Esq., of Barrackpore.” 

“ Yes ! I was sure it was that woman !” Mrs. Rosewarne said 
eagerly. “ And so she is married again ?” 

“ I fancied the gay young things were here on their wedding- 
trip,” Trelyon said carelessly. “ They amused me. I like to see 
turtle-doves of fifty billing and cooing on the promenade, espe- 
cially when one of them wears a brown wig, has an Irish accent, 
and drinks brandy-and-water at breakfast. But he is a good 
billiard-player ; yes, he is an uncommonly good billiard-player. 
He told me last night he had beaten the Irish Secretary the other 


216 


THREE FEATHERS. 


day in the billiard-room of the House of Commons. I humbly 
suspect that was a lie. At least, I can’t remember anything about 
a billiard-table in the House of Commons, and I was two or three 
times through every bit of it when I was a little chap, with an 
uncle of mine, who was a member then ; but perhaps they’ve got 
a billiard-table now — who knows ? He told me he had stood for 
an Irish borough — spent £3000 on a population of 284 — and all 
he got was a black eye and a broken head. I should say all that 
was a fabrication, too ; indeed, I think he rather amuses himself 
with lies — and brandy-and-water. But you don’t want to know 
anything more about him, Mrs. Rosewarne ?” 

She did not. All that she cared to know was in that little 
strip of printed paper ; and as she left the room to get ready for 
the drive she expressed herself grateful to him in such warm 
tones that he was rather astonished. After all, as he said to him- 
self, he had had nothing to do in bringing about the marriage of 
that somewhat gorgeous person in whom Mrs. Rosewarne was so 
strangely interested. 

They were silent as they drove away. There was one happy 
face among them, that of Mrs. Rosewarne ; but she was thinking 
of her own affairs, in a sort of pleased reverie. Wenna was timid 
and a trifle sad ; she said little beyond “ Yes, Mr. Trelyon,” and 
“ No, Mr. Trelyon,” and even that was said in a low voice. As 
for him, he spoke to her gravely and respectfully : it was already 
as if she were a mere stranger. 

Had some of his old friends and acquaintances seen him now, 
they would have been something more than astonished. Was 
this young man, talking in a gentle and courteous fashion to his 
companion, and endeavoring to interest her in the various things 
around her, the same dare-devil lad who used to clatter down the 
main street of Eglosilyan, who knew no control other than his 
own unruly wishes, and who had no answer but a mocking jest 
for any remonstrance ? 

“ And how long do you remain in Penzance, Mr. Trelyon ?” 
Mrs. Rosewarne said at length. 

“ Until to-morrow, I expect,” he answered. 

“ To-morrow ?” 

“ Yes ; I am going back to Eglosilyan. You know my mother 
means to give some party or other on my coming of age, and 
there is so little of that amusement going on at our house that it 


FAREWELL ! 


217 


needs all possible encouragement. After that I mean to leave 
Eglosilyan for a time.” 

Wenna said nothing ; but her downcast face grew a little paler: 
it was she who was banishing him. 

“ By the way,” he continued, with a smile, “ my mother is very 
anxious about Miss Wenna’s return. I fancy she has been trying 
to go into that business of the Sewing Club on her own account ; 
and in that case she would be sure to get into a mess. I know 
her first impulse would be to pay any money to smooth matters 
over ; but that would be a bad beginning, wouldn’t it ?” 

“Yes, it would,” Wenna said; but somehow, at this moment, 
she was less inclined to be hopeful about the future. 

“ And as for you, Mrs. Rosewarne,” he said, “ I suppose you 
will be going home soon, now that the change seems to have done 
you so much good ?” 

“Yes, I hope so,” she said; “but Wenna must go first. My 
husband writes to me that he cannot do without her, and offers 
to send Mabyn instead. Nobody seems to be able to get on with- 
out our Wenna.” 

“ And yet she has the most curious fancy that she is of no ac- 
count to anybody. Why, some day I expect to hear of the people 
in Eglosilyan holding a public meeting to present her with a 
service of plate, and an address written on parchment, with blue 
and gold letters.” 

“ Perhaps they will do that when she gets married,” the moth- 
er said, ignorant of the stab she was dealing. 

It was a picturesque and pleasant bit of country through which 
they were driving ; yet to two of them at least the afternoon sun 
seemed to shine over it with a certain sadness. It was as if they 
were bidding good-bye to some beautiful scene they could scarce- 
ly expect to revisit. For many a day thereafter, indeed, Wenna 
seemed to recollect that drive as though it had happened in a 
dream. She remembered the rough and lonely road leading up 
sharp hills and getting down into valleys again ; the masses of 
ferns and wild flowers by the stone walls ; the wild and undu- 
lating country, with its stretches of yellow furze, its clumps of 
trees, and its huge blocks of gray granite. She remembered their 
passing into a curious little valley, densely wooded, the winding 
path of which was not well fitted for a broad carriage and a pair 
of horses. They had to watch the boughs and branches as they 


218 


THREE FEATHERS. 


jolted by. The sun was warm among the foliage ; there was a 
resinous scent of ferns about. By and by the valley abruptly 
opened on a wide and beautiful picture. Lamorna Cove lay be- 
fore them, and a cold fresh breeze came in from the sea. Here 
the world seemed to cease suddenly. All around them were 
huge rocks and wild flowers and trees ; and far up there on their 
left rose a hill of granite, burning red with the sunset ; but down 
below them the strange little harbor was in shadow, and the sea 
beyond, catching nothing of the glow in the west, was gray and 
mystic and silent. Not a ship was visible on that pale plain ; no 
human being could be seen about the stone quays and the cot- 
tages; it seemed as if they had come to the end of the world, 
and were its last inhabitants. All these things Wenna thought 
of in after-days, until the odd and plain little harbor of Lamorna 
and its rocks and bushes and slopes of granite seemed to be some 
bit of fairyland, steeped in the rich hues of the sunset, and yet 
ethereal, distant, and unrecoverable. 

Mrs. Rosewarne did not at all understand the silence of these 
young people, and made many attempts to break it up. Was the 
mere fact of Mr. Trelyon returning to Eglosilyan next day any- 
thing to be sad about ? He was not a school-boy going back to 
school. As for Wenna, she had got back her engaged ring, and 
ought to have been grateful and happy. 

“ Come now,” she said, “ if you purpose to drive back by the 
Mouse Hole, we must waste no more time here. Wenna, have 
you gone to sleep ?” 

The girl started as if she had really been asleep ; then she 
walked back to the carriage and got in. They drove away again 
without saying a word. 

“What is the matter with you, Wenna? Why are you so 
downcast ?” her mother asked. 

“ Oh, nothing !” the girl said hastily. “ But — but one does 
not care to talk much on so beautiful an evening.” 

“ Yes, that is quite true,” said Mr. Trelyon, quite as eagerly, and 
with something of a blush ; “ one only cares to sit and look at 
things.” 

“ Oh, indeed,” said Mrs. Rosewarne, with a smile ; she had never 
before heard Mr. Trelyon express his views upon scenery. 

They drove around by the Mouse Hole, and when they came 
in sight of Penzance again, the bay and the semicircle of houses 


FAREWELL ! 


219 


and St. Michael’s Mount were all of a pale gray in the twilight. 
As they drove quietly along, they heard the voices of people from 
time to time ; the occupants of the cottages had come out for 
their evening stroll and chat. Suddenly, as they were passing 
certain huge masses of rock that sloped suddenly down to the 
sea, they heard another sound — that of two or three boys calling 
out for help. The briefest glance showed what was going on. 
These boys were standing on the rocks, staring fixedly at one of 
their companions who had fallen into the water and was wildly 
splashing about, while all they could do to help him was to call 
for aid at the pitch of their voices. 

“That chap’s drowning!” Trelyon said, jumping out of the 
carriage. 

The next minute he was out on the rocks, hastily pulling off 
his coat. What was it he heard just as he plunged into the sea 
* — the agonized voice of a girl calling him back? 

Mrs. Rosewarne was at this moment staring at her daughter 
with almost a horror-stricken look on her face. Was it really 
Wenna Rosewarne who had been so mean ; and what madness 
possessed her to make her so ? The girl had hold of her mother’s 
arm with both her hands, and held it with the grip of a vice; 
while her white face was turned to the rocks and the sea. 

“ Oh, mother !” she cried, “ it is only a boy, and he is a man 
— and there is not another in all the world like him — ” 

“ Wenna, is it you who are speaking ; or a devil ? The boy is 
drowning !” 

But he was drowning no longer. He was laid hold of by a 
strong arm, dragged in to the rocks, and there fished out by his 
companions. Then Trelyon got up on the rocks, and calmly 
looked at his dripping clothes. 

“ You are a nice little beast, you are !” he said to the small boy, 
who had swallowed a good deal of salt water, but was otherwise 
quite unhurt. “ How do you expect I am going home in these 
trousers ? Perhaps your mother’ll pay me for a new pair, eh ? 
And give you a jolly good thrashing for tumbling in? Here’s 
a half-crown for you, you young ruffian ; and if I catch you on 
these rocks again, I’ll throw you in and let you swim for it — see 
if I don’t.” 

He walked up to the carriage, shaking himself, and putting on 
his coat as he went, with great difficulty. 


220 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Mrs. Rosewarne, I must walk back — I can’t think of — ” 

He uttered a short cry. Wenna was lying as one dead in her 
mother’s arms, Mrs. Rosewarne vainly endeavoring to revive her. 
He rushed down the rocks again to a pool, and soaked his hand- 
kerchief in the water; then he went hurriedly back to the car- 
riage, and put the cool handkerchief on her temples and on her 
face. 

“ Oh, Mr. Trelyon, do go away, or you will get your death of 
cold!” Mrs. Rosewarne said. “Leave Wenna to me. See, there 
is a gentleman who will lend you his horse, and you will get to 
your hotel directly.” 

He did not even answer her. His own face was about as pale 
as that of the girl before him, and hers was that of a corpse. But 
by and by strange tremors passed through her frame ; her hands 
tightened their grip of her mother’s arm, and, with a sort of shud- 
der, she opened her eyes and fearfully looked around. She caught 
sight of the young man standing there; she scarcely seemed to 
recognize him for a moment. And then, with a quick nervous 
action, she caught at his hand and kissed it twice, hurriedly and 
wildly ; then she turned to her mother, hid her face in her bosom, 
and burst into a flood of tears. Probably the girl scarcely knew 
all that had taken place ; but her two companions, in silence, and 
with a great apprehension filling their hearts, saw and recognized 
the story she had told. 

“ Mr. Trelyon,” said Mrs. Rosewarne, “ you must not remain 
here.” 

Mechanically he obeyed her. The gentleman who had been 
riding along the road had dismounted, and, fearing some accident 
had occurred, had come forward to offer his assistance. When he 
was told how matters stood, he at once gave Trelyon his horse to 
ride into Penzance ; and then the carriage was driven off also, at 
a considerably less rapid pace. 

That evening Trelyon, having got into warm clothes and dined, 
went along to ask how Wenna was. His heart beat hurriedly as 
he knocked at the door. He had intended merely making the 
inquiry, and coming away again ; but the servant said that Mrs. 
Rosewarne wished to see him. 

He went up-stairs, and found Mrs. Rosewarne alone. These two 
looked at each other ; that single glance told everything. They 
were both aware of the secret that had been revealed. 


MABYN DREAMS. 


221 


For an instant there was dead silence between them ; and then 
Mrs. Rosewarne, with a great sadness in her voice, despite its 
studied calmness, said — 

“ Mr. Trelyon, we need say nothing of what has occurred. 
There are some things that are best not spoken of. But I can 
trust to you not to seek to see Wenna before you leave here. She 
is quite recovered — only a little nervous, you know, and fright- 
ened. To-morrow she will be quite well again.” 

“ You will bid her good-bye for me,” he said. 

But for the tight clasp of the hand between these two, it was 
an ordinary parting. He put on his hat and went out. Perhaps 
it was the cold sea-air that made his face so pale. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

MABYN DREAMS. 

“Yes, mother,” said Mabyn, bursting into the room, “here I 
am; and Jennifer’s down-stairs with my box; and I am to stay 
with you here for another week or a fortnight ; and Wenna’s to 
go back at once, for the whole world is convulsed because of Mr. 
Trelyon’s coming of age ; and Mrs. Trelyon has sent and taken all 
our spare rooms ; and father says Wenna must come back direct- 
ly, for it’s always ‘Wenna, do this,’ and ‘Wenna, do that;’ and if 
Wenna isn’t there, of course the sky will tumble down on the 
earth — Mother, what’s the matter, and where’s Wenna?” 

Mabyn was suddenly brought up in the middle of her voluble 
speech by the strange expression on her mother’s face. 

“ Oh, Mabyn, something dreadful has happened to our Wenna !” 

Mabyn turned deadly white. 

“ Is she ill ?” she said, almost in a whisper. 

“ No, not ill ; but a great trouble has fallen on her.” 

Then the mother, in a low voice, apparently fearful that any 
one should overhear, began to tell her younger daughter of all she 
had learned within the past day or two — how young Trelyon had 
been bold enough to tell Wenna that he loved her ; how Wenna 
had dallied with her conscience and been loth to part with him ; 
how at length she had as good as revealed to him that she loved 


222 


THREE FEATHERS. 


him in return ; and how she was now overwhelmed and crushed 
beneath a sense of her own faithlessness and the impossibility of 
making reparation to her betrothed. 

“ Only to think, Mabyn,” said the mother, in accents of despair, 
“that all this distress should have come about in such a quiet and 
unexpected way ! Who could have foreseen it ? WLy, of all peo- 
ple in the world, you would have thought our Wenna was the least 
likely to have any misery of this sort; and many a time, don’t 
you remember, I used to say it was so wise of her getting engaged 
to a prudent and elderly man, who would save her from the plagues 
and trials that young girls often suffer at the hands of their lovers. 
I thought she was so comfortably settled. Everything promised 
her a quiet and gentle life. And now this sudden shock has come 
upon her, she seems to think she is not fit to live, and she goes on 
in such a wild way — ” 

“ Where is she ?” Mabyn said, abruptly. 

“No, no, no,” the mother said, anxiously. “You must not 
speak a word to her, Mabyn. You must not let her know I have 
told you anything about it. Leave her to herself for a while at 
least; if you spoke to her, she would take it you meant to accuse 
her; for she says you warned her, and she would pay no heed. 
Leave her to herself, Mabyn.” 

“ Then where is Mr. Trelyon ?” said Mabyn, with some touch 
of indignation in her voice. “ What is he doing ? Is he leaving 
her to herself too ?” 

“ I don’t know what you mean, Mabyn,” her mother said, tim- 
idly. 

“ Why doesn’t he come forward like a man, and marry her ?” 
said Mabyn, boldly. “ Yes, that is what I would do, if I were a 
man. She has sent him away? Yes, of course. That is right 
and proper. And Wenna will go on doing what is right and 
proper, if you allow her, to the very end, and the end will be a 
lifetime of misery, that’s all. No, my notion is that she should 
do something that is not right and is quite improper, if only it 
makes her happy ; and you’ll see if I don’t get her to do it. Why, 
mother, haven’t you had eyes to see that these two have been in 
love for years ? Nobody in the world had ever the least control 
over him but her ; he would do anything for Wenna ; and she — 
why, she always came back singing after she had met and spoken 
to him. And then you talk about a prudent and sensible husband l 


MABYN DREAMS. 


223 


I don’t want Wenna to marry a watchful, mean, old, stocking-darn- 
ing cripple, who will creep about the house all day, and peer into 
cupboards, and give her fourpence-halfpenny a week to live on. 
I want her to marry a man, one that is strong enough to protect 
her ; and I tell you, mother — I’ve said it before and I say it again 
— she shall not marry Mr. Roscorla !” 

“ Mabyn !” said her mother, “you are getting madder than ever. 
Your dislike to Mr. Roscorla is most unreasonable. A cripple! — 
why — ” 

“ Oh, mother !” Mabyn cried, with a bright light on her face, 
“ only think of our Wenna being married to Mr. Trelyon, and how 
happy and pleased and pretty she would look as they went walk- 
ing together ! And then how proud he would be to have so nice 
a wife ; and he would joke about her, and be very impertinent, 
but he would simply worship her all the same, and do everything 
he could to please her. And he would take her away and show 
her all the beautiful places abroad ; and he would have a yacht, 
too ; and he would give her a fine house in London ; and don’t 
you think our Wenna would fascinate everybody with her mouse- 
like ways, and her nice, small steps ? And if they did have any 
trouble, wouldn’t she be better to have somebody with her, not 
timid and anxious and pettifogging, but somebody who wouldn’t 
be cast down, but make her as brave as himself ?” 

Miss Mabyn was a shrewd young woman, and she saw that 
her mother’s quick, imaginative, sympathetic nature was being 
captivated by this picture. She determined to have her as an 
ally. 

“And don’t you see, mother, how it all lies within her reach? 
Harry Trelyon is in love with her — there was no need for him to 
say so — I knew it long before he did. And she — why, she has 
told him now that she cares for him ; and if I were he, I know 
what I’d do in his place. What is there in the way ? Why, a — 
a sort of understanding — ” 

“ A promise, Mabyn,” said the mother. 

“ Well, a promise,” said the girl, desperately, and coloring some- 
what. “But it was a promise given in ignorance — she didn’t 
know — how could she know? Everybody knows that such prom- 
ises are constantly broken. If you are in love with somebody 
else, what’s the good of your keeping the promise ? Now, moth- 
er, won’t you argue with her ? See here. If she keeps her prom- 


224 


THREE FEATHERS. 


ise, there’s three people miserable. If she breaks it, there’s only 
one — and I doubt whether he’s got the capacity to be miserable. 
That’s two to one, or three to one, is it? Now will you argue 
with her, mother ?” 

“ Mabyn, Mabyn,” the mother said, with a shake of her head, 
but evidently pleased with the voice of the tempter, “ your fancy 
has run away with you. Why, Mr. Trelyon has never proposed 
to marry her.” 

“ I know he wants to,” said Mabyn, confidently. 

“ How can you know ?” 

“ I’ll ask him and prove it to you.” 

“ Indeed,” said the mother, sadly, “ it is no thought of marriage 
that is in Wenna’s head just now. The poor girl is full of remorse 
and apprehension. I think she would like to start at once for 
Jamaica, and fling herself at Mr. Roscorla’s feet, and confess her 
fault. I am glad she has to go back to Eglosilyan ; that may dis- 
tract her mind in a measure ; at present she is suffering more than 
she shows.” 

“ Where is she ?” 

“ In her own room, tired out and fast asleep. I looked in a 
few minutes ago.” 

Mabyn went up-stairs, after having seen that Jennifer had prop- 
erly bestowed her box. Wenna had just risen from the sofa, and 
was standing in the middle of the room. Her younger and taller 
sister went blithely forward to her, kissed her as usual, took no 
notice of the sudden flush of red that sprang into her face, and 
proceeded to state, in a business-like fashion, all the arrangements 
that had to be made. 

“Have you been enjoying yourself, Wenna?” Mabyn said, with 
a fine air of indifference. 

“ Oh yes,” Wenna answered ; adding hastily, “ don’t you think 
mother is greatly improved ?” 

“ Wonderfully. I almost forgot she was an invalid. How lucky 
you are to be going back to see all the fine doings at the Hall ; of 
course they will ask you up.” 

“They will do nothing of the kind,” Wenna said, with some 
asperity, and with her face turned aside. 

“ Lord and Lady Amersham have already come to the Hall.” 

“Oh, indeed!” 

“ Yes ; they said some time ago that there was a good chance 


MABYN DREAMS. 


225 


of Mr. Trelyon marrying the daughter — the tall girl with the yel- 
low hair, you remember ?” 

“ And the stooping shoulders ? yes. I should think they would 
be glad to get her married to anybody. She’s thirty.” 

“ Oh, Wenna !” 

“ Mr. Trelyon told me so,” said Wenna, sharply. 

“ And they are a little surprised,” continued Mabyn, in the same 
indifferent way, but watching her sister all the while, “that Mr. 
Trelyon has remained absent until so near the time. But I sup- 
pose he means to take Miss Penaluna with him. She lives here, 
doesn’t she ? They used to say there was a chance of a marriage 
there, too.” 

“ Mabyn, what do you mean ?” Wenna said, suddenly and an- 
grily. “ What do I care about Mr. Trelyon’s marriage ? What is 
it you mean ?” 

But the firmness of her lips began to yield ; there was an omi- 
nous trembling about them ; and at the same moment her younger 
sister caught her to her bosom, and hid her face there, and hushed 
her wild sobbing. She would hear no confession. She knew 
enough. Nothing would convince her that Wenna had done any- 
thing wrong ; so there was no use speaking about it. 

“ Wenna,” she said, in a low voice, “ have you sent him any 
message ?” 

“ Oh no, no,” the girl said, trembling. “ I fear even to think 
of him ; and when you mentioned his name, Mabyn, it seemed to 
choke me. And now I have to go back to Eglosilyan ; and, oh ! 
if you only knew how I dread that, Mabyn !” 

Mabyn’s conscience was struck. She it was who had done this 
thing. She had persuaded her father that her mother needed 
another week or fortnight at Penzance ; she had frightened him 
by telling him what bother he would suffer if Wenna were not 
back at the inn during the festivities at Trelyon Hall ; and then 
she had offered to go and take her sister’s post. George Rose- 
warne was heartily glad to exchange the one daughter for the other. 
Mabyn was too independent. She thwarted him ; sometimes she 
insisted on his bestirring himself. Wenna, on the other hand, went 
about the place like some invisible spirit of order, making every- 
thing comfortable for him, without noise or worry. He was eas- 
ily led to issue the necessary orders; and so it was that Mabyn 
thought she was doing her sister a friendly turn by sending her 
15 


226 


THREE FEATHERS. 


back to Eglosilyan in order to join in congratulating Harry Tre- 
lyon on his entrance into man’s estate. Now Mabyn found that 
she had only plunged her sister into deeper trouble. 

What could be done to save her ? 

“ Wenna,” said Mabyn, rather timidly, “ do you think he has 
left Penzance ?” 

Wenna turned to her with a sudden look of entreaty in her 
face. 

“ I cannot bear to speak of him, Mabyn. I have no right to — 
I hope you will not ask me. Just now I — I am going to write a 
letter — to Jamaica. I shall tell the whole truth. It is for him to 
say what must happen now. I have done him a great injury. I 
did not intend it; I had no thought of it; but my own folly 
and thoughtlessness brought it about, and I have to bear the pen- 
alty. I don’t think he need be anxious about punishing me.” 

She turned away with a tired look on her face, and began to 
get out her writing materials. Mabyn watched her for a moment 
or two in silence ; then she left and went to her own room, say- 
ing to herself, “ Punishment ? Whoever talks of punishment will 
have to address himself to me.” 

When she got to her own room, she wrote these words on a 
piece of paper — in her firm, bold, free hand — U A friend would 
like to see you for a minute in front of the Post-office in the mid- 
dle of the town.” She put that in an envelope, and addressed the 
envelope to Harry Trelyon, Esq. Still keeping her bonnet on, 
she went down-stairs, and had a little general conversation with 
her mother, in the course of which she quite casually asked the 
name of the hotel at which Mr. Trelyon had been staying. Then, 
just as if she were going out to the Parade to have a look at the 
sea, she carelessly left the house. 

The dusk of the evening was growing to dark. A white mist 
lay over the sea. The solitary lamps were being lit along the 
Parade — each golden star shining sharply in the pale purple twi- 
light ; but a more confused glow of orange showed where the lit- 
tle town was busy in its narrow thoroughfares. She got hold of a 
small boy, gave him the letter, sixpence, and his instructions. He 
was to ask if the gentleman were in the hotel. If not, had he 
left Penzance, or would he return that night? In any case the 
boy was not to leave the letter unless Mr. Trelyon were there. 

The small boy returned in a couple of minutes. The gentle- 


MABYN DREAMS. 


22V 


man was there, and had taken the letter. So Mabyn at once set 
out for the centre of the town, and soon found herself in among 
a mass of huddled houses, bright shops, and thoroughfares pretty 
well filled with strolling sailors, women getting home from market, 
and townspeople come out to gossip. She had accurately judged 
that she would be less observed in this busy little place than out 
on the Parade ; and as it was the first appointment she had ever 
made to meet a young gentleman alone, she was just a little 
nervous. 

Trelyon was there. He had recognized the handwriting in a 
moment. He had no time to ridicule or even to think of Mabyn’s 
school-girl affectation of secrecy ; he had at once rushed off to 
the place of appointment, and that by a short cut of which she 
had no knowledge. 

“Mabyn, what’s the matter? Is Wenna ill?” he said — forget- 
ting in his anxiety even to shake hands with her. 

“Oh no, she isn’t,” said Mabyn, rather coldly and defiantly. 
If he was in love with her sister, it was for him to make ad- 
vances. 

“Oh no, she’s pretty well, thank you,” continued Mabyn, in- 
differently. “ But she never could stand much worry. I wanted 
to see you about that. She is going back to Eglosilyan to-mor- 
row ; and you must promise not to have her asked up to the 
Hall while these grand doings are going on — you must not try 
to see her and persuade her — if you could keep out of her way 
altogether — ” 

“ You know all about it, then, Mabyn ?” he said, suddenly ; and 
even in the dusky light of the street she could see the rapid look 
of gladness that filled his face. “ And you are not going to be 
vexed, eh ? You’ll remain friends with me, Mabyn — you will tell 
me how she is from time to time. Don’t you see I must go away 
— and, by Jove, Mabyn, I’ve got such a lot to tell you !” 

She looked around. 

“ I can’t talk to you here. Won’t you walk back by the other 
road behind the town ?” he said. 

Yes, she would go willingly with him now. The anxiety of 
his face, the almost wild way in which he seemed to beg for her 
help and friendship, the mere impatience of his manner pleased 
and satisfied her. This was as it should be. Here was no sweet- 
heart by line and rule, demonstrating his affection by argument, 


228 


THREE FEATHERS. 


acting at all times with a studied propriety ; but a real, true lover, 
full of passionate hope and as passionate fear, ready to do any- 
thing, and yet not knowing what to do. Above all he was “ brave 
and handsome, like a prince !” and therefore a fit lover for her 
gentle sister. 

“ Oh, Mr. Trelyon,” she said, with a great burst of confidence, 
u I did so fear that you might be indifferent I” 

“ Indifferent !” said he, with some bitterness. “ Perhaps that 
is the best thing that could happen ; only it isn’t very likely to 
happen. Did you ever see anybody placed as I am placed, Ma- 
byn? Nothing but stumbling-blocks every way I look. Our 
family have always been hot-headed and hot-tempered ; if I told 
my grandmother at this minute how I am situated, I believe she 
would say, ‘Why don’t you go like a man, and run off with the 
girl ?’— ” 

“ Yes !” said Mabyn, quite delighted. 

“But suppose you’ve bothered and worried the girl until you 
feel ashamed of yourself, and she begs of you to leave her, aren’t 
you bound in fair manliness to go ?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Mabyn, doubtfully. 

“Well, I do. It would be very mean to pester her. I’m off 
as soon as these people leave the Hall. But then there are other 
things. There is your sister engaged to this fellow out in Ja- 
maica — ” 

“ Isn’t he a horrid wretch ?” said Mabyn, between her teeth. 

“ Oh, I quite agree with you. If I could have it out with him 
now — but, after all, what harm has the man done ? Is it any 
wonder he wanted to get Wenna for a wife?” 

“ Oh, but he cheated her,” said Mabyn, warmly. “ He per- 
suaded her, and reasoned with her, and argued her into marrying 
him. And what business bn " he to tell her that love between 
young people is all bitterness find trial ; and that a girl is only 
safe when she marries a prudent and elderly man who will look 
after her? Why, it is to look after him that he wants her. 
Wenna is going to him as a housekeeper and a nurse. Only — 
only, Mr. Trelyon, she hasn't gone to him just yet!" 

“ Oh, I don’t think he did anything unfair,” the young man 
said, gloomily. “ It doesn’t matter anyhow. What I was going 
to say is that my grandmother’s notion of what one of our family 
ought to do in such a case can’t be carried out : whatever you 


MABYN DREAMS. 


229 


may think of a man, you can’t go and try to rob him of his 
sweetheart behind his back. Even supposing she was willing to 
break with him, which she is not, you’ve at least got to wait to 
give the fellow a chance.” 

“ There I quite disagree with you, Mr. Trelyon,” Mabyn said, 
warmly. “ Wait to give him a chance to make our Wenna mis- 
erable? Is she to be made the prize of a sort of fight? If I 
were a man, I’d pay less attention to my own scruples and try 
what I could do for her — Oh, Mr. Trelyon — I — I beg your 
pardon.” 

Mabyn suddenly stopped on the road, overwhelmed with con- 
fusion. She had been so warmly thinking of her sister’s welfare 
that she had been hurried into something worse than an indis- 
cretion. 

“ What, then, Mabyn ?” said he, profoundly surprised. 

“ I beg your pardon. I have been so thoughtless. I had no 
right to assume that you wished — that you wished for the — for 
the opportunity — ” 

“Of marrying Wenna?” said he, with a great stare. “But 
what else have we been speaking about? Or rather, I suppose 
we did assume it. Well, the more I think of it, Mabyn, the more 
I am maddened by all these obstacles, and by the notion of all 
the things that may happen. That’s the bad part of my going 
away. How can I tell what may happen ? He might come back, 
and insist on her marrying him right off.” 

“ Mr. Trelyon,” said Mabyn, speaking very clearly, “ there’s one 
thing you may be sure of. If you let me know where you are, 
nothing will happen to Wenna that you don’t hear of.” 

He took her hand, and pressed it in mute thankfulness. He 
was not insensible to the value of having so warm an advocate, 
so faithful an ally, always at Wenna’s side. 

“ How long do letters take in going to Jamaica ?” Mabyn asked. 

“ I don’t know.” 

“ I could fetch him back for you directly,” said she, “ if you 
would like that.” 

“ How ?” 

“ By writing and telling him that you and Wenna were go- 
ing to get married. Wouldn’t that fetch him back pretty 
quickly ?” 

“ I doubt it. He wouldn’t believe it of Wenna. Then he is a 


230 


THREE FEATHERS. 


sensible sort of fellow, and would say to himself that, if the news 
was true, he would have his journey for nothing. Besides, Barnes 
says that things are looking well with him in Jamaica — better 
than anybody expected. He might not be anxious to leave.” 

They had now got back to the Parade, and Mabyn stopped. 

“ I must leave you now, Mr. Trelyon. Mind not to go near 
Wenna when you get to Eglosilyan — ” 

“ She sha’n’t even see me. I shall be there only a couple of 
days or so ; then I am going to London. I am going to have a 
try at the Civil Service examinations — for first commissions, you 
know. I shall only come back to Eglosilyan for a day now and 
again at long intervals. You have promised to write to me, Ma- 
byn — well, I’ll send you my address.” 

She looked at him keenly as she offered him her hand. 

“ I wouldn’t be downhearted if I were you,” she said. “ Very 
odd things sometimes happen.” 

“ Oh, I sha’n’t be very downhearted,” said he, “ so long as I 
hear that she is all right, and not vexing herself about anything.” 

“ Good-bye, Mr. Trelyon. I am sorry I can’t take any message 
for you.” 

“ To her ? No, that is impossible. Good-bye, Mabyn ; I think 
you are the best friend I have in the world.” 

“ We’ll see about that,” she said, as she walked rapidly off. 

Her mother had been sufficiently astonished by her long ab- 
sence ; she was now equally surprised by the excitement and 
pleasure visible in her face. 

“Oh, mammy, do you know whom I’ve seen? Mr. Trelyon !” 

“ Mabyn!” 

“ Yes. We’ve walked right around Penzance — all by ourselves. 
And it’s all settled, mother.” 

“What is all settled?” 

“ The understanding between him and me. An offensive and 
defensive alliance. Let tyrants beware !” 

She took off her bonnet, and came and sat down on the floor 
by the side of the sofa. 

“ Oh, mammy, I see such beautiful things in the future — you 
wouldn’t believe it if I told you all I see ! Everybody else seems 
determined to forecast such gloomy events — there’s Wenna crying 
and writing letters of contrition, and expecting all sorts of anger 
and scolding ; there’s Mr. Trelyon, haunted by the notion that 


FERN IN DIE WELT. 


231 


Mr. Roscorla will suddenly come home and marry Wenna right 
off ; and as for him out there in Jamaica, I expect he’ll be in a 
nice state when he hears of all this. But far on ahead of all that 
I see such a beautiful picture — ” 

“ It is a dream of yours, Mabyn,” her mother said ; but there 
was an imaginative light in her fine eyes, too. 

“ No, it is not a dream, mother ; for there are so many people 
all wishing now that it should come about, in spite of these 
gloomy fancies. What is there to prevent it, when we are all 
agreed ? Mr. Trelyon and I heading the list with our important 
alliance ; and you, mother, would be so proud to see Wenna hap- 
py ; and Mrs. Trelyon pets her as if she were a daughter already, 
and everybody — every man, woman, and child in Eglosilyan would 
rather see that come about than get a guinea apiece. Oh, mother, 
if you could see the picture that I see just now — ” 

“It is a pretty picture, Mabyn,” her mother said, shaking her 
head. “ But when you think of everybody being agreed, you for- 
get one, and that is Wenna herself. Whatever she thinks fit and 
right to do, that she is certain to do, and all your alliances and 
friendly wishes won’t alter her decision, even if it should break 
her heart. And, indeed, I hope the poor child won’t sink under 
the terrible strain that is on her : what do you think of her looks, 
Mabyn ?” 

“ They want mending ; yes, they want mending,” Mabyn ad- 
mitted, apparently with some compunction ; but then she added, 
boldly, “ and you know as well as I do, mother, that there is but 
the one way of mending them !” 


CHAPTER XXX. 

FERN IN DIE WELT. 

If this story were not tied by its title to the Duchy of Corn- 
wall, it might be interesting enough to follow Mr. Roscorla into 
the new world that had opened all around him, and say something 
of the sudden shock his old habits had thus received, and of the 
quite altered views of his own life he had been led to form. As 
matters stand, we can only pay him a flying visit. 


232 


THREE FEATHERS. 


He is seated in a veranda, fronting a garden, in which pome- 
granates and oranges form the principal fruit. Down below him 
some blacks are bringing provisions up to Yacca Farm, along the 
cactus avenue leading to the gate. Far away on his right, the 
last rays of the sun are shining on the summit of Blue Mountain 
Peak ; and along the horizon the reflected glow of the sky shines 
on the calm sea. It is a fine, still evening ; his cigar smells sweet 
in the air ; it is a time for indolent dreaming and for memories 
of home. 

But Mr. Roscorla is not so much enraptured by thoughts of 
home as he might be. 

“ Why,” he is saying to himself, “ my life in Basset Cottage 
was no life at all, but only a waiting for death. Day after day 
passed in that monotonous fashion ; what had one to look for- 
ward to but old age, sickness, and then the quiet of a coffin ? It 
was nothing but an hourly procession to the grave, varied by rab- 
bit-shooting. This bold breaking away from the narrow life of 
such a place has given me a new lease of existence. Now I can 
look back with surprise on the dulness of that Cornish village, 
and on the regularity of habits which I did not know were habits. 
For is not that always the case ? You don’t know that you are 
forming a habit ; you take each act to be an individual act, which 
you may perform or not at will ; but all the same the succession of 
them is getting you into its power, custom gets a grip of your 
ways of thinking as well as your ways of living; the habit is 
formed, and it does not cease its hold until it conducts you to 
the grave. Try Jamaica for a cure. Fling a sleeping man into 
the sea, and watch if he does not wake. Why, when I look back 
to the slow, methodical, commonplace life I led at Eglosilyan, can 
I wonder that I was sometimes afraid of Wenna Rosewarne re- 
garding me as a somewhat staid and venerable person, on whose 
infirmities she ought to take pity ?” 

He rose and began to walk up and down the veranda, putting 
his foot down firmly. His loose linen suit was smart enough ; 
his complexion had been improved by the sun. The conscious- 
ness that his business affairs were promising well did not lessen 
his sense of self-importance. 

“ Wenna must be prepared to move about a bit when I go 
back,” he was saying to himself. “ She must give up that daily 
attendance on cottagers’ children. If all turns out well, I don’t 


FERN IN DIE WELT. 


233 


see why we should not live in London ; for who will know there 
who her father was ? That consideration was of no consequence 
so long as I looked forward to living the rest of my life in Basset 
Cottage ; now there are other things to be thought of when there 
is a chance of my going among my old friends again.” 

By this time, it must be observed, Mr. Roscorla had abandoned 
his hasty intention of returning to England to upbraid Wenna 
with having received a ring from Harry Trelyon. After all, he 
reasoned with himself, the mere fact that she should talk thus 
simply and frankly about young Trelyon showed that, so far as 
she was concerned, her loyalty to her absent lover was unbroken. 
As for the young gentleman himself, he was, Mr. Roscorla knew, 
fond of joking. He had doubtless thought it a fine thing to 
make a fool of two or three women by imposing on them this 
cock-and-bull story of finding a ring by dredging. He was a little 
angry that Wenna should have been deceived ; but then, he re- 
flected, these gypsy rings are so much like one another that the 
young man had probably got a pretty fair duplicate. For the 
rest, he did not want to quarrel with Harry Trelyon at present. 

But as he was walking up and down this veranda, looking a 
much younger and brisker man than the Mr. Roscorla who had 
left Eglosilyan, a servant came through the house and brought 
him a couple of letters. He saw they were respectively from Mr. 
Barnes and from Wenna ; and, curiously enough, he opened the 
reverend gentleman’s first — perhaps as school-boys like to leave 
the best bit of a tart to the last. 

He read the letter over carefully; he sat down and read it 
again ; then he put it before him on the table. He was evident- 
ly puzzled by it. 

“ What does this man mean by writing these letters to me?” — 
so Mr. Roscorla, who was a cautious and reflective person, com- 
muned with himself. “ He is no particular friend of mine. He 
must be driving at something. Now he says that I am to be of 
good cheer. I must not think anything of what he formerly 
wrote. Mr. Trelyon is leaving Eglosilyan for good, and his mother 
will at last have some peace of mind. What a pity it is that this 
sensitive creature should be at the mercy of the rude passions 
of this son of hers — that she should have no protector — that she 
should be allowed to mope herself to death in a melancholy se- 
clusion.” 


234 


THREE FEATHERS. 


An odd fancy occurred to Mr. Roscorla at this moment, and he 
smiled. 

“ I think I have got a clew to Mr. Barnes’s disinterested anxiety 
about my affairs. The widower would like to protect the solitary 
and unfriended widow ; but the young man is in the way. The 
young man would be very much in the way if he married Wenna 
Rosewarne ; the widower’s fears drive him into suspicion, then into 
certainty ; nothing will do but that I should return to England at 
once, and spoil this little arrangement. But as soon as Harry 
Trelyon declares his intention of leaving Eglosilyan for good, 
then my affairs may go anyhow. Mr. Barnes finds the coast 
clear; I am bidden to stay where I am. Well, that is what I 
mean to do ; but now I fancy I understand Mr. Barnes’s generous 
friendship for me and his affectionate correspondence.” 

He turned to Wenna’s letter with much compunction. He 
owed her some atonement for having listened to the disingenu- 
ous reports of this scheming clergyman. How could he have so 
far forgotten the firm, uncompromising rectitude of the girl’s 
character, her sensitive notions of honor, the promises she had 
given ? 

He read the letter, and as he read his eyes seemed to grow hot 
with rage. He paid no heed to the passionate contrition of the 
trembling lines ; to the obvious pain that she had endured in tell- 
ing the story, without concealment, against herself ; to the utter 
and abject wretchedness with which she awaited his decision. It 
was thus that she had kept faith with him the moment his back 
was turned. Such were the safeguards afforded by a woman’s 
sense of honor. What a fool he had been to imagine that any 
woman could remain true to her promise so soon as some other 
object of flirtation and incipient love-making came in her way ! 

He looked at the letter again : he could scarcely believe it to be 
in her handwriting. This the quiet, reasonable, gentle, and timid 
Wenna Rosewarne, whose virtues were almost a trifle too severe? 
The despair and remorse of the letter did not touch him — he was 
too angry and indignant over the insult to himself — but it as- 
tonished him. The passionate emotion of those closely written 
pages he could scarcely connect with the shy, frank, kindly lit- 
tle girl he remembered ; it was a cry of agony from a tortured 
woman, and he knew at least that for her the old, quiet time was 
over. 


FERN IN DIE WELT. 


235 


He knew not what to do. All this that had happened was new 
to him ; it was old and gone by in England, and who could tell 
what further complications might have arisen? But his anger 
required some vent ; he went indoors, called for a lamp, and sat 
down and wrote, with a hard and resolute look on his face : 

“ I have received your letter. I am not surprised. You are a 
woman ; and I ought to have known that a woman’s promise is 
of value so long as you are by her side to see that she keeps it. 
You ask what reparation you can make ; I ask if there is any that 
you can suggest. No ; you have done what cannot be undone. 
Do you think a man would marry a woman who is in love with, 
or has been in love with another man, even if he could overlook 
her breach of faith and the shameless thoughtlessness of her con- 
duct? My course is clear, at all events. I give you back the 
promise that you did not know how to keep ; and now you can 
go and ask the young man who has been making a holiday toy of 
you whether he will be pleased to marry you. 

“Richard Roscorla.” 

He sealed and addressed this letter, still with the firm, hard look 
about his face ; then he summoned a servant — a tall, red-haired 
Irishman. He did not hesitate for a moment. 

“ Look here, Sullivan, the English mails go out to-morrow morn- 
ing — you must ride down to the Post-office, as hard as you can 
go ; and if you’re a few minutes late, see Mr. Keith, and give him 
my compliments, and ask him if he can possibly take this letter 
if the mails are not made up. It is of great importance. Quick 
now !” 

He watched the man go clattering down the cactus avenue un- 
til he was out of sight. Then he turned, put the letters in his 
pocket, went indoors, and again struck a small gong that did 
duty for a bell. He wanted his horse brought around at once. 
He was going over to Pleasant Farm ; probably he would not re 
turn that night. He lit another cigar and paced up and dowr 
the gravel in front of the house until the horse was brought 
around. 

When he reached Pleasant Farm the stars were shining over- 
head, and the odors of the night-flowers came floating out of the 
forest ; but inside the house there were brilliant lights and the 


236 


THREE FEATHERS. 


voices of men talking. A bachelor supper-party was going for- 
ward. Mr. Roscorla entered, and presently was seated at the 
hospitable board. 

They had never seen him so gay ; and they had certainly never 
seen him so generously inclined, for Mr. Roscorla was economical 
in his habits. He would have them all to dinner the next even- 
ing, and promised them such champagne as had never been sent 
to Kingston before. He passed around his best cigars ; he hinted 
something about unlimited loo ; he drank pretty freely ; and was 
altogether in a jovial humor. 

“England?” he said, when some one mentioned the mother 
country. “ Of one thing I am pretty certain — England will never 
see me again. No — a man lives here ; in England he waits for 
his death. What life I have got before me I shall live in Jamaica 
— that is my view of the question.” 

“ Then she is coming out to you ?” said his host, with a grin. 

Roscorla’s face flushed with anger. 

“There is no she in the matter,” he said, abruptly, almost 
fiercely. “ I thank God I am not tied to any woman.” 

“ Oh, I beg your pardon,” said his host, good-naturedly, who 
did not care to recall the occasions on which Mr. Roscorla had 
been rather pleased to admit that certain tender ties bound him 
to his native land. 

“ No, there is not !” he said. “ What fool would have his com- 
fort and peace of mind depend on the caprice of a woman? I 
like your plan better, Rogers : when they’re dependent on you, 
you can do as you like; but when they’ve got to be treated as 
equals, they’re the devil. No, my boys, you don’t find me going 
in for the angel in the house — she’s too exacting. Is it to be 
unlimited ?” 

Now, to play unlimited loo in a reckless fashion is about the 
easiest way of getting rid of money that the ingenuity of man 
has devised. The other players were much better qualified to run 
such risks than Mr. Roscorla ; but none played half so wildly as 
he. I.O.U.’s went freely about. At one point in the evening the 
floating paper bearing the signature of Mr. Roscorla represented 
a sum of about £300 ; and yet his losses did not weigh heavily 
on him. At length every one got tired, and it was resolved to 
stop short at a certain hour. But from this point the luck 
changed ; nothing- could stand against his cards ; one by one his 


FERN IN DIE WELT. 


237 


I.O.U.’s were recalled ; and when they all rose from the table he 
had won about £48. He was not elated. 

He went to his room, and sat down in an easy-chair ; and then 
it seemed to him that he saw Eglosilyan once more, and the far 
coasts of Cornwall, and the broad uplands lying under a blue 
English sky. That was his home, and he had cut himself away 
from it, and from the little glimmer of romance that had recently 
brightened it for him. Every bit of the place, too, was associated 
somehow with Wenna Rosewarne. He could see the seat, front- 
ing the Atlantic, on which she used to sit and sew on the fine 
summer forenoons. He could see the rough road, leading over 
the downs, on which he met her one wintry morning, she wrapped 
up and driving her father’s dog-cart, while the red sun in the sky 
seemed to brighten the pink color the cold wind had brought into 
her cheeks. He thought of her walking sedately up to church; 
of her wild scramblings among the rocks with Mabyn ; of her en- 
joyment of a fierce wind when it came laden with the spray of 
the great rollers breaking on the cliff outside. What was the 
song she used to sing to herself as she went along the quiet wood* 
land ways ? — 

“Your Polly has never been false, she declares, 

Since last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs.” 

He could not let her go. All the anger of wounded vanity had 
left his heart ; he thought now only of the chance he was throw- 
ing away. Where else could he hope to find for himself so pleas- 
ant a companion and friend, who would cheer up his dull daily 
life with her warm sympathies, her quick humor, her winning 
womanly ways ? 

He thought of that letter he had sent away, and cursed his own 
folly. So long as she was bound by her promise, he knew he 
could marry her when he pleased; but now he had voluntarily 
released her. In a couple of weeks she would hold her manu- 
mission in her hands ; the past would no longer have any power 
over her ; if ever they met, they would meet as mere acquaint- 
ances. Every moment the prize slipping out of his grasp seemed 
to grow more valuable; his vexation with himself grew intoler- 
able ; he suddenly resolved that he would make a wild effort to 
get back that fatal letter. 

He had sat communing with himself for over an hour ; all the 


238 


THREE FEATHERS. 


household was fast asleep. He would not wake any one, for fear 
of being compelled to give explanations ; so he noiselessly crept 
along the dark passages until he got to the door, which he care- 
fully opened and let himself out. The night was wonderfully 
clear ; the constellations throbbing and glittering overhead ; the 
trees were black against the pale sky. 

He made his way around to the stables, and had some sort of 
notion that he would try to get at his horse, until it occurred to 
him that some suddenly awakened servant or master would prob- 
ably send a bullet whizzing at him. So he abandoned that enter- 
prise, and set off to walk, as quickly as he could, down the slopes 
of the mountain, with the stars still shining over his head, the air 
sweet with powerful scents, the leaves of the bushes hanging si- 
lently in the semi-darkness. 

How long he walked he did not know ; he was not aware that, 
when he reached the sleeping town, a pale gray was lightening 
the eastern skies. He went to the house of the postmaster, and 
hurriedly aroused him. Mr. Keith began to think that the ordi- 
narily sedate Mr. Roscorla had gone mad. 

“ But I must have the letter,” he said. “ Come now, Keith, 
you can give it me back if you like. Of course, I know it is very 
wrong ; but you’ll do it to oblige a friend — ” 

“ My dear sir,” said the postmaster, who could not get time for 
explanation, “ the mails were made up last night — ” 

“ Yes, yes ; but you can open the English bag.” 

“ They were sent on board last night.” 

“ Then the packet is still in the harbor ; you might come down 
with me — ” 

“ She sails at daybreak — ” 

“ It is not daybreak yet,” said Mr. Roscorla, looking up. 

Then he saw how the gray dawn had come over the skies, ban- 
ishing the stars, and he became aware of the wan light shining 
around him. With the new day his life was altered; he would 
no more be as he had been ; the chief aim and purpose of his 
existence had been changed. 

Walking heedlessly back, he came to a point from which he had 
a distant view of the harbor and the sea beyond. Far away out 
on the dull gray plain was a steamer slowly making her way to- 
wards the east. Was that the packet bound for England, carry- 
ing to Wenna Rosewarne the message that she was free ? 


239 


“ BLUE IS THE SWEETEST.” 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

“blue IS THE SWEETEST.” 

The following correspondence may now, without any great 
breach of confidence, be published : 


“Eglosilyan, Monday morning . 

“ Dear Mr. Trelyon, — 

“ Do you know what Mr. Roscorla says in the letter Wenna 
has just received ? Why, that you could not get up that ring by 
dredging, but that you must have bought the ring at Plymouth. 
Just think of the wicked old wretch fancying such things ; as if 
you would give a ring of emeralds to any one ! Tell me that this 
is a story, that I may bid Wenna contradict him at once. I have 
got no patience with a man who is given over to such mean sus- 
picions. “Yours faithfully, 

“ Mabyn Rosewarne.” 


“ London, Tuesday night. 


“ Dear Mabyn, — 

“ I am sorry to say Mr. Roscorla is right. It was a foolish trick 
— I did not think it would be successful, for my hitting the size 
of her finger was rather a stroke of luck ; but I thought it would 
amuse her if she did find it out after an hour or two. I was afraid 
to tell her afterwards, for she would think it impertinent. What’s 
to be done ? Is she angry about it ? 

“Yours sincerely, 

“Harry Trelyon.” 


“ Eglosilyan. 

“ Dear Mr. Trelyon, — 

“ How could you do such a thing ! W T hy, to give Wenna, of 
all people in the world, an emerald ring, just after I had got Mr. 
Roscorla to give her one, for bad luck to himself 1 Why, how 


240 


THREE FEATHERS. 


could you do it ! I don’t know what to say about it — unless you 
demand it back, and send her one with sapphires in it at once . 

“ Yours, 

“ M. R. 

“ P. S. — As quick as ever you cany 


“London, Friday morning. 

“ Dear Mabyn, — 

“ Why, you know she wouldn’t take a sapphire ring or any 
other from me. “ Yours faithfully, 

“ H. Trelyon.” 


“ My dear Mr. Trelyon, — 

“ Pray don’t lose any time in writing ; but send me at once a 
sapphire ring for Wenna. You have hit the size once, and you 
can do it again ; but, in any case, I have marked the size on this 
bit of thread, and the jeweller will understand. And please, dear 
Mr. Trelyon, don’t get a very expensive one, but a plain, good one, 
just like what a poor person like me would buy for a present if I 
wanted to. And post it at once, please — this is very important. 

“ Yours most sincerely, 

“ Mabyn Rosewarne.” 

In consequence of this correspondence, Mabyn, one morning, 
proceeded to seek out her sister, whom she found busy with the 
accounts of the Sewing Club, wdiich was now in a flourishing con- 
dition. Mabyn seemed a little shy. 

“ Oh, Wenna,” she said, “ I have something to tell you. You 
know I wrote to ask Mr. Trelyon about the ring. Well, he’s very, 
very sorry — oh, you don’t know how sorry he is, Wenna ! — but 
it’s quite true. He thought he would please you by getting the 
ring, and that you would make a joke of it when you found it 
out ; and then he was afraid to speak of it afterwards — ” 

Wenna had quietly slipped the ring off her finger. She be- 
trayed no emotion at the mention of Mr. Trelyon’s name. Her 
face was a trifle red, that was all. 

“ It was a stupid thing to do,” she said, “ but I suppose he 
meant no harm. Will you send him back the ring ?” 

“ Yes,” she said, eagerly. “ Give me the ring, Wenna.” 

She carefully wrapped it up in a piece of paper, and put it in 


241 


“blue is the sweetest.” 

her pocket. Any one who knew her would have seen by her 
face that she meant to give that ring short shift. Then she said 
timidly — 

“ You are not very angry, Wenna?” 

“ No. I am sorry I should have vexed Mr. Roscorla by my 
carelessness.” 

“ Wenna,” the younger sister continued, even more timidly, 
“ do you know what I’ve heard about rings — that when you’ve 
worn one for some time on a finger, you ought never to leave it 
off altogether ; I think it affects the circulation — or something of 
that kind. Now, if Mr. Trelyon were to send you another ring, 
just to — to keep the place of that one until Mr. Roscorla came 
back — ” 

“ Mabyn, you must be mad to think of such a thing,” said her 
sister, looking down. 

“ Oh yes,” Mabyn said, meekly, “ I thought you wouldn’t like 
the notion of Mr. Trelyon giving you a ring. And so, dear Wen- 
na, I’ve — I’ve got a ring for you — you won’t mind taking it from 
me ; and if you do wear it on the engaged finger, why, that doesn’t 
matter, don’t you see—” 

She produced the ring of dark blue stones, and herself put it on 
Wenna’s finger. 

“ Oh, Mabyn,” Wenna said, “ how could you be so extravagant! 
And just after you gave me that ten shillings for the Leans.” 

“You be quiet,” said Mabyn, briskly, going off with a light 
look on her face. 

And yet there was some determination about her mouth. She 
hastily put on her hat and went out. She took the path by the 
hill-side over the little harbor ; and eventually she reached the face 
of Black Cliff, at the foot of which a gray-green sea was dashing 
in white masses of foam ; there was no living thing around her 
but the choughs and daws, and the white sea-gulls sailing overhead. 

She took out a large sheet of brown paper and placed it on the 
ground. Then she sought out a bit of rock, weighing about two 
pounds. Then she took out the little parcel which contained the 
emerald ring, tied it up carefully along with the stone in the sheet 
of brown p^)er ; finally, she rose up to her full height and heaved 
the whole into the sea. A splash down there, and that was all. 

She clapped her hands with joy. 

“ And now, my precious emerald ring, that’s the last of you, I 
16 


242 


THREE FEATHERS. 


imagine ! And there isn’t much chance of a fish bringing you 
back, to make mischief with your ugly green stones !” 

Then she went home, and wrote this note : 


“Eglosilyan, Monday . 


“ Dear Mr. Trelyon, — 

“ I have just thrown the emerald ring you gave Wenna into the 
sea, and she wears the other one now on her engaged finger, but 
she thinks I bought it. Did you ever hear of an old-fashioned 
rhyme that is this ? — 

‘ Oh, green’s forsaken, 

And yellow’s forsworn, 

And blue’s the sweetest 
Color that’s worn !’ 


You can’t tell what mischief that emerald ring might not have 
done. But the sapphires that Wenna is wearing now are perfect- 
ly beautiful ; and Wenna is not so heartbroken that she isn’t very 
proud of them. I never saw such a beautiful ring. 

“ Yours sincerely, 

“ Mabyn Rosewarne. 


“ P. S. — Are you never coming back to Eglosilyan any more ?” 


So the days went by, and Mabyn waited, with a secret hope, to 
see what answer Mr. Roscorla would send to that letter of con- 
fession and contrition Wenna had written to him at Penzance. 
The letter had been written as an act of duty, and posted too ; 
but there was no mail going out for ten days thereafter, so that 
a considerable time had to elapse before the answer came. 

During that time Wenna went about her ordinary duties, just 
as if there were no hidden fire of pain consuming her heart ; there 
was no word spoken by her or to her of all that had recently oc- 
curred ; her mother and sister were glad to see her so continuous- 
ly busy. At first she shrank from going up to Trelyon Hall, and 
would rather have corresponded with Mrs. Trelyon about their 
joint work of charity, but she conquered the feeling, and went and 
saw the gentle lady, who perceived nothing altered or strange in 
her demeanor. At last the letter from Jamaica came ; ftnd Mabyn, 
having sent it up to her sister’s room, waited for a few minutes, 
and then followed it. She was a little afraid, despite her belief 
in the virtues of the sapphire ring. 


243 


“blue is the sweetest.” 

When she entered the room, she uttered a slight cry of alarm 
and ran forward to her sister. Wenna was seated on a chair by 
the side of the bed, but she had thrown her arms out on the bed, 
her head was between them, and she was sobbing as if her heart 
would break. 

“ Wenna, what is the matter ? what has he said to you?” 

Mabyn’s eyes were all afire now. Wenna would not answer. 
She would not even raise her head. 

“ Wenna, I want to see that letter.” 

“ Oh no, no,” the girl moaned. “ I deserve it ; he says what 
is true ; I want you to leave me alone, Mabyn — you — you can’t 
do anything to help this — ” 

But Mabyn had by this time perceived that her sister held in 
her hand, crumpled up, the letter which was the cause of this wild 
outburst of grief. She went forward and firmly took it out of 
the yielding fingers ; then she turned to the light and read it. 

“ Oh, if I were a man !” she said ; and then the very passion of 
her indignation, -finding no other vent, filled her eyes with proud 
and angry tears. She forgot to rejoice that her sister was now 
free. She only saw the cruel insult of those lines, and the fash- 
ion in which it had struck down its victim. 

“ Wenna,” she said, hotly, “ you ought to have more spirit ! 
You don’t mean to say you care for the opinion of a man who 
would write to any girl like that ! You ought to be precious glad 
that he has shown himself in his true colors. Why, he never 
cared a bit for you — never ! — or he would never turn at a mo- 
ment’s notice and insult you — ” 

“ I have deserved it all ; it is every word of it true ; he could 
not have written otherwise” — that was all that Wenna would say 
between her sobs. 

“Well,” retorted Mabyn, “after all I am glad he was angry. 
I did not think he had so much spirit. And if this is his opinion 
of you, I don’t think it is worth heeding, only I hope he’ll keep to 
it. Yes, I do ! I hope he’ll continue to think you’re everything 
that is wicked, and remain out in Jamaica. Wenna, you must 
not lie and cry like that. Come, get up, and look at the straw- 
berries that Mr. Trewhella has sent you.” 

“ Please, Mabyn, leave me alone, there’s a good girl.” 

“ I shall be up again in a few minutes, then ; I want you to 
drive me over to St. Gwennis. Wenna, I must go over to St. 


244 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Gwennis before lunch ; and father won’t let me have anybody to 
drive; do you hear, Wenna?” 

Then she went out and down into the kitchen, where she both- 
ered Jennifer for a few minutes until she had got an iron heated 
at the fire. With this implement she carefully smoothed out the 
crumpled letter, and then she as carefully folded it, took it up- 
stairs, and put it safely away in her own desk. She had just 
time to write a few lines : 

“ Dear Mr. Trelyon, — 

“ Do you know what news I have got to tell you ? Can you 
guess? The engagement between Mr. Roscorla and Wenna is 
broken off ; and I have got in my possession the letter in which 
he sets her free. If you knew how glad I am ! — I should like to 
cry ‘ Hurrah ! hurrah !’ all through the streets of Eglosilyan, and 
I think every one else would do the same if only they knew. Of 
course, she is very much grieved, for he has been most insulting. 
I cannot tell you the things he has said; you would kill him if 
you heard them. But she will come round very soon, I know ; 
and then she will have her freedom again, and no more emerald 
rings, and letters all filled with arguments. Would you like to 
see her, Mr. Trelyon ? But don’t come yet — not for a long time 
— she would only get angry and obstinate. I’ll tell you when to 
come ; and in the mean time, you know, she is still wearing your 
ring, so that you need not be afraid. How glad I shall be to see 
you again ! “ Yours most faithfully, 

“ Mabyn Rosewarne.” 

She went down-stairs quickly, and put this letter in the letter- 
box. There was an air of triumph on her face. She had worked 
for this result — aided by the mysterious powers of fate, whom 
she had conjured to serve her — and now the welcome end of her 
labors had arrived. She bade the hostler get out the dog-cart, as 
if she were the Queen of Sheba going to visit Solomon. She 
went marching up to her sister’s room, announcing her approach 
with a more than ordinarily accurate rendering of “Oh, the men 
of merry, merry England !” so that a stranger might have fancied 
that he heard the very voice of Harry Trelyon, with all its unme- 
lodious vigor, ringing along the passage. 


THE EXILE’S RETURN. 


245 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

THE EXILE’S RETURN. 

Perhaps you have been away in distant parts of the earth, 
each day crowded with new experiences and slowly obscuring the 
clear pictures of England with which you left ; perhaps you have 
only been hidden away in London, amid its ceaseless noise, its 
strange faces, its monotonous recurrence of duties ; let us say, in 
any case, that you are returning home for a space to the quiet of 
northern Cornwall. 

You look out of the high window of a Plymouth hotel early 
in the morning ; there is promise of a beautiful autumn day. A 
ring of pink mist lies around the horizon ; overhead the sky is 
clear and blue ; the white sickle of the moon still lingers visible. 
The new warmth of the day begins to melt the hoar-frost in the 
meadows, and you know that out beyond the town the sun is 
shining brilliantly on the wet grass, with the brown cattle gleam- 
ing red in the light. 

You leave the great world behind, with all its bustle, crowds, 
and express engines, when you get into the quiet little train that 
takes you leisurely up to Launceston, through woods, by the sides 
of rivers, over great valleys. There is a sense of repose about this 
railway journey. The train stops at any number of small stations 
— apparently to let the guard have a chat with the station-mas- 
ter — and then jogs on in a quiet, contented fashion. And on 
such an autumn day as this, that is a beautiful, still, rich-colored, 
and English-1 ooking country through which it passes. Here is a 
deep valley, all glittering with the dew and the sunlight. Down 
in the hollow a farm-yard is half hidden behind the yellowing 
elms ; a boy is driving a flock of white geese along the twisting 
road ; the hedges are red with the withering briers. Up here, along 
the hill-sides, the woods of scrub-oak are glowing with every im- 
aginable hue of gold, crimson, and bronze, except where a few 
dark firs appear, or where a tuft of broom, pure and bright in its 


246 


THREE FEATHERS. 


green, stands out among the faded brackens. The gorse is pro- 
fusely in bloom — it always is in Cornwall. Still further over 
there are sheep visible on the uplands ; beyond these again the 
bleak brown moors rise into peaks of hills ; overhead the silent 
blue, and all around the sweet, fresh country air. 

With a sharp whistle the small train darts into an opening in 
the hills ; here we are in the twilight of a great wood. The tall 
trees are becoming bare ; the ground is red with the fallen leaves ; 
through the branches the blue-winged jay flies, screaming harsh- 
ly ; you can smell the damp and resinous odors of the ferns. Out 
again we get into the sunlight ; and lo ! a rushing, brawling, nar- 
row stream, its clear flood swaying this way and that by the big 
stones ; a wall of rock overhead crowned by glowing furze ; a 
herd of red cattle sent scampering through the bright-green grass. 
Now we get slowly into a small white station, and catch a glimpse 
of a tiny town over in the valley ; again we go on by wood and 
valley, by rocks and streams and farms. It is a pleasant drive on 
such a morning. 

In one of the carriages in this train Master Harry Trelyon and 
his grandmother were seated. How he had ever persuaded her 
to go with him to Cornwall by train was mysterious enough ; for 
the old lady thoroughly hated all such modern devices. It was 
her custom to go travelling all over the country with a big, old- 
fashioned phaeton and a pair of horses ; and her chief amusement 
during these long excursions was driving up to any big house she 
took a fancy to, in order to see if there were a chance of its being 
let to her. The faithful old servant who attended her, and who 
was about as old as the coachman, had a great respect for his 
mistress ; but sometimes he swore — inaudibly — when she ordered 
him to make the usual inquiry at the front-door of some noble 
lord’s country residence, which he would as soon have thought of 
letting as of forfeiting his seat in the House of Peers or his hopes 
of heaven. But the carriage and horses were coming down all 
the same to Eglosilyan, to take her back again. 

“ Harry,” she was saying at this moment, “ the longer I look 
at you, the more positive I am that you are ill. I don’t like your 
color ; you are thin and careworn and anxious. What is the mat- 
ter with you ?” 

“Going to school again at twenty-one is hard work, grand- 
mother,” he said. “ Don’t you try it. But I don’t think I’m 


THE EXILE’S RETURN. 


247 


particularly ill; few folks can keep a complexion like yours, 
grandmother.” 

“ Yes,” said the old lady, rather pleased, “ many’s the time they 
said that about me, that there wasn’t much to complain of in my 
looks ; and that’s what a girl thinks of then, and sweethearts and 
balls, and all the other men looking savage when she’s dancing with 
any one of them. Well, well, Harry ; and what is all this about 
you and the young lady your mother has made such a pet of? 
Oh yes, I have my suspicions ; and she’s engaged to another man, 
isn’t she? Your grandfather would have fought him, I’ll be 
bound ; but we live in a peaceable way now — well, well, no mat- 
ter ; but hasn’t that got something to do with your glum looks, 
Harry ?” 

“ I tell you, grandmother, I have been hard at work in Lon- 
don. You can’t look very brilliant after a few months in Lon- 
don.” 

“And what keeps you in London at this time of the year?” 
said this plain-spoken old lady. “Your fancy about getting into 
the army ? Nonsense, man ; don’t tell me such a tale as that. 
There’s a woman in the case ; a Trelyon never puts himself so 
much about from any other cause. To stop in town at this time 
of the year ! Why, your grandfather and your father, too, would 
have laughed to hear of it. I haven’t had a brace of birds or a 
pheasant sent me since last autumn — not one. Come, sir, be 
frank with me. I’m an old woman, but I can hold my tongue.” 

“There’s nothing to tell, grandmother,” he said. “You just 
about hit it in that guess of yours — 1 suppose Juliott told you. 
Well, the girl is engaged to another man ; and what more is to 
be said?” 

“ The man’s in Jamaica ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Why are you going down to-day ?” 

“ Only for a brief visit : I’ve been a long time away.” 

The old lady sat silent for some time. She had heard of the 
whole affair before ; but she wished to have the rumor confirmed. 
And at first she was sorely troubled that her grandson should 
contemplate marrying an innkeeper’s daughter, however intelli- 
gent, amiable, and well-educated the young lady might be ; but 
she knew the Trelyons pretty well, and knew that, if he had made 
up his mind to it, argument and remonstrance would be useless. 


248 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Moreover, she had a great affection for this young man, and was 
strongly disposed to sympathize with any wish of his. She grew 
in time to have a great interest in Miss Wenna Rosewarne; at 
this moment the chief object of her visit was to make her ac- 
quaintance. She grew to pity young Trelyon in his disappoint- 
ment, and was inclined to believe that the person in Jamaica was 
something of a public enemy. The fact was, her mere liking for 
her grandson would have converted her to a sympathy with the 
wildest project he could have formed. 

“Dear, dear,” she said, “what awkward things engagements 
are when they stand in your way. Shall I tell you the truth ? I 
was just about as good as engaged to John Cholmondeley when 
I gave myself up to your grandfather — but there, when a girl’s 
heart pulls her one way, and her promise pulls her another way, 
she needs to be a very firm-minded young woman, if she means to 
hold fast. John Cholmondeley was as good-hearted a young 
fellow as ever lived — yes, I will say that for him ; and I was might- 
ily sorry for him ; but — but you see, that’s how things come 
about. Dear, dear, that evening at Bath — I remember it as well 
as if it was yesterday — and it was only two months after I had 
run away with your grandfather. Yes, there was a ball that 
night ; and we had kept very quiet, you know, after coming back ; 
but this time your grandfather had set his heart on taking me 
out before everybody, and, you know, he had to have his way. 
As sure as I live, Harry, the first man I saw was John Cholmon- 
deley, just as white as a ghost — they said he had been drinking 
hard and gambling pretty nearly the whole of these two months. 
He wouldn’t come near me. He wouldn’t take the least notice 
of me. The whole night he pretended to be vastly gay and mer- 
ry ; he danced with everybody ; but his eyes never came near me. 
Well, you know what a girl is — that vexed me a little bit ; for 
there never was a man such a slave to a woman as he was to me 
— dear, dear, the way my father used to laugh at him, until he 
got wild with anger. Well, I went up to him at last, when he 
was by himself, and I said to him, just in a careless way, you 
know, ‘ John, aren’t you going to dance with me to-night V Well, 
do you know, his face got quite white again ; and he said — I re- 
member the very words, as cold as ice — ‘ Madam,’ says he, ‘ I am 
glad to find that your hurried trip to Scotland has impaired nei- 
ther your good looks nor your self-command.’ Wasn’t it cruel of 


THE EXILE’S RETURN. 


249 


him ? — but then, poor fellow, he had been badly used, I admit 
that. Poor young fellow, he never did marry ; and I don’t be- 
lieve he ever forgot me to his dying day. Many a time I’d like 
to have told him all about it ; and how there was no use in my 
marrying him if I liked another man better ; but though we met 
sometimes, especially when he came down about the Reform Bill 
time — and I do believe I made a red-hot Radical of him — he was 
always very proud, and I hadn’t the heart to go back on the old 
story. But I’ll tell you what your grandfather did for him — he 
got him returned at the very next election, and he on the other 
side too ; and after a bit a man begins to think more about get- 
ting a seat in Parliament than about courting an empty-headed 
girl. I have met this Mr. Roscorla, haven’t I ?” 

“ Of course you have.” 

“A good-looking man rather, with a fresh complexion and 
gray hair ?” 

“ I don’t know what you mean by good looks,” said Trelyon, 
shortly. “I shouldn’t think people would call him an Adonis. 
But there’s no accounting for tastes.” 

“ Perhaps I may have been mistaken,” the old lady said ; “ but 
there was a gentleman at Plymouth Station who seemed to be 
something like what I can recall of Mr. Roscorla — you didn’t see 
him, I suppose.” 

“ At Plymouth Station, grandmother ?” the young man said, 
becoming rather uneasy. 

“ Yes. He got into the train just as we came up. A neatly 
dressed man, gray hair, and a healthy-looking face — I must have 
seen him somewhere about here before.” 

‘‘Roscorla is in Jamaica,” said Trelyon, positively. 

Just at this moment the train slowed into Launceston Station, 
and the people began to get out on the platform. 

“ That is the man I mean,” said the old lady. 

Trelyon turned and stared. There, sure enough, was Mr. Ros- 
corla, looking not one whit different from the precise, elderly, 
fresh-colored gentleman who had left Cornwall some seven months 
before. 

“ Good Lord, Harry !” said the old lady, nervously looking at 
her grandson’s face, “ don’t have a fight here !” 

The next second Mr. Roscorla wheeled around, anxious about 
some luggage, and now it was his turn to stare in astonishment 


250 


THREE FEATHERS. 


and anger — anger, because he had been told that Harry Trelyon 
never came near Cornwall, and his first sudden suspicion was that 
he had been deceived. All this had happened in a minute. Tre- 
lyon was the first to regain his self-command. He walked delib- 
erately forward, held out his hand, and said — 

“ Hillo, Roscorla ; back in England again ? I didn’t know you 
were coming.” 

“ No,” said Mr. Roscorla, with his face grown just a trifle gray- 
er — “ no, I suppose not.” 

In point of fact he had not informed any one of his coming. 
He had prepared a little surprise. The chief motive of his return 
was to get Wenna to cancel forever that unlucky letter of release 
he had sent her, which he had done more or less successfully in 
subsequent correspondence ; but he had also hoped to introduce 
a little romanticism into his meeting with her. He would enter 
Eglosilyan on foot. He would wander down to the rocks at the 
mouth of the harbor, on the chance of finding Wenna there. 
Might he not hear her humming to herself, as she sat and sewed, 
some snatch of “Your Polly has never been false, she declares” 
— or was that the very last ballad in the world she would now 
think of singing ? Then the delight of regarding again the plac- 
id, bright face and earnest eyes, of securing once more a perfect 
understanding between them, and their glad return to the inn. 

All this had been spoiled by the appearance of this young man : 
he loved him none the more for that. 

“ I suppose you haven’t got a trap waiting for you ?” said Tre- 
lyon, with cold politeness. “ I can drive you over, if you like.” 

He could do no less than make the offer ; the other had no al- 
ternative but to accept. Old Mrs. Trelyon heard this compact 
made with considerable dread. 

Indeed, it was a dismal drive over to Eglosilyan, bright as the 
forenoon was. The old lady did her best to be courteous to Mr. 
Roscorla and cheerful with her grandson ; but she was oppressed 
by the belief that it was only her presence that had so far re- 
strained the two men from giving vent to the rage and jealousy 
that filled their hearts. The conversation kept up was singular. 

“ Are you going to remain in England long, Roscorla?” said the 
younger of the two men, making an unnecessary cut at one of the 
two horses he was driving. 

“ Don’t know yet. Perhaps I may.” 


THE EXILE’S RETURN. 


251 


“ Because,” said Trelyon, with angry impertinence, “ I suppose 
if you do you’ll have to look around for a housekeeper.” 

The insinuation was felt ; and Roscorla’s eyes looked anything 
but pleasant as he answered — 

“ You forget I’ve got Mrs. Cornish to look after my house.” 

“ Oh, Mrs. Cornish is not much of a companion for you.” 

“ Men seldom want to make companions of their housekeepers,” 
was the retort, uttered rather hotly. 

“ But sometimes they wish to have the two offices combined, 
for economy’s sake.” 

At this juncture Mrs. Trelyon struck in, somewhat wildly, with 
a remark about an old ruined house, which seemed to have had at 
one time a private still inside : the danger was staved off for the 
moment. 

“ Harry,” she said, “ mind what you are about ; the horses seem 
very fresh.” 

“ Yes, they like a good run ; I suspect they’ve had precious 
little to do since I left Cornwall.” 

Did she fear that the young man was determined to throw them 
into a ditch or down a precipice, with the wild desire of killing 
his rival at any cost? If she had known the whole state of af- 
fairs between them — the story of the emerald ring, for example 
— she would have understood at least the difficulty experienced 
by these two men in remaining decently civil towards each 
other. 

So they passed over the high and wide moors, until far ahead 
they caught a glimpse of the blue plain of the sea. Mr. Roscorla 
relapsed into silence ; he was becoming a trifle nervous. He was 
probably so occupied with anticipations of his meeting with Wen- 
na that he failed to notice the objects around him — and one of 
these, now become visible, was a very handsome young lady, who 
was coming smartly along a wooded lane, carrying a basket of 
bright-colored flowers. 

“ Why, here’s Mabyn Rosewarne. I must wait for her.” 

Mabyn had seen at a distance Mrs. Trelyon’s gray horses ; she 
guessed that the young master had come hack, and that he had 
brought some strangers with him. She did not like to he stared 
at by strangers. She came along the path, with her eyes fixed on 
the ground” she thought it impertinent of Harry Trelyon to wait 
to speak to her. 


252 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Oh, Mabyn,” he cried, “ you must let me drive you home ! 
And let me introduce you to my grandmother. There is some 
one else whom you know.” 

The young lady bowed to Mrs. Trelyon ; then she stared, and 
changed color somewhat, when she saw Mr. Roscorla ; then she 
was helped up into a seat. 

“ How do you do, Mr. Trelyon ?” she said. “ I am very glad 
to see you have come back. How do you do, Mr. Roscorla?” 

She shook hands with them both, but not quite in the same 
fashion. 

“ And you have sent no message that you were coming ?” she 
said, looking her companion straight in the face. 

“ No — no, I did not,” he said, angry and embarrassed by the 
open enmity of the girl. “ I thought I should surprise you 
all—” 

“You have surprised me, anyway,” said Mabyn, “for how can 
you be so thoughtless? Wenna has been very ill — I tell you, she 
has been very ill indeed, though she has said little about it, and 
the least thing upsets her. How can you think of frightening 
her so ? Do you know what you are doing ? I wish you would 
go away back to Launceston, or London, and write her a note 
there, if you are coming, instead of trying to frighten her !” 

This was the language, it appeared to Mr. Roscorla, of a virago ; 
only viragos do not ordinarily have tears in their eyes, as was the 
case with Mabyn, when she finished her indignant appeal. 

“ Mr. Trelyon, do you think it is fair to go and frighten Wen- 
na so ?” she demanded. 

“ It is none of my business,” Trelyon answered, with an air as 
if he had said to his rival, “ Yes, go and kill the girl ! You are 
a nice sort of gentleman, to come down from London to kill the 
girl !” 

“ This is absurd,” said Mr. Roscorla, contemptuously, for he 
was stung into reprisal by the persecution of these two ; “a girl 
isn’t so easily frightened out of her wits. Why, she must have 
known that my coming home was at any time probable.” 

“ I have no doubt she feared that it was,” said Mabyn, partly to 
herself ; for once she was afraid of speaking out. 

Presently, however, a brighter light came over the girl’s face. 

“ Why, I quite forgot,” she said, addressing Harry Trelyon ; “ I 
quite forgot that Wenna was just going up to Trelyon Hall when 


THE EXILE’S RETURN. 


253 


I left. Of course, she will be up there. You will he able to tell 
her that Mr. Roscorla has arrived, won’t you ?” 

The malice of this suggestion was so apparent that the young 
gentleman in front could not help grinning at it ; fortunately, his 
face could not be seen by his rival. What he thought of the whole 
arrangement can only be imagined. 

And so, as it happened, Mr. Roscorla and his friend Mabyn were 
dropped at the inn ; while Harry Trelyon drove his grandmother 
up and on to the Hall. 

“Well, Harry,” the old lady said, “I am glad to be able to 
breathe at last ; I thought you two were going to kill each oth- 
er.” 

“ There is no fear of that,” the young man said ; “ that is not 
the way in which this affair has to be settled. It is entirely a 
matter for her decision — and look how everything is in his favor. 
I am not even allowed to say a word to her ; and even if I could, 
he is a deal cleverer than me in argument. He would argue my 
head off in half an hour.” 

“ But you don’t turn a girl’s heart around by argument, Harry. 
When a girl has to choose between a young lover and an elderly 
one, it isn’t always good-sense that directs her choice. Is Miss 
Wenna Rosewarne at all like her sister ?” 

“ She’s not such a tomboy,” he said ; “ but she is quite as 
straightforward, and proud, and quick to tell you what is che right 
thing to do. There’s no sort of shamming tolerated oy these 
two girls. But then Wenna is gentle and quieter, and more soft 
and lovable than Mabyn — in my fancy, you know ; and she is 
more humorous and clever, so that she never gets into those 
school-girl rages. But it is really a shame to compare them like 
that ; and, indeed, if any one said the least thing against one of 
these girls, the other would precious soon make him regret the 
day he was born. You don’t catch me doing that with either of 
them ; I’ve had a warning already, when I hinted that MaDyn 
might probably manage to keep her husband in good order. And 
so she would, I believe, if the husband were not of the right sort ; 
but when she is really fond of anybody, she becomes their slave 
out-and-out. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for her sister ; 
and her sister thinks there’s nobody in the world like Mabyn. 
So you see — ” 

He stopped in the middle of this sentence. 


254 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Grandmother,” he said, almost in a whisper, “ here she is com- 
ing along the road.” 

“ Miss Rosewarne ?” 

“ Yes : shall I introduce you ?” 

“If you like.” 

Wenna was coming down the steep road, between the high 
hedges, with a small girl on each side of her, whom she was lead- 
ing by the hand. She was gayly talking to them ; you could 
hear the children laughing at what she said. Old Mrs. Trelyon 
came to the conclusion that this merry young lady, with the light 
and free step, the careless talk, and fresh color in her face, was 
certainly not dying of any love-affair. 

“ Take the reins, grandmother, for a minute.” 

He had leaped down into the road, and was standing before 
her, almost ere she had time to recognize him. For a moment a 
quick gleam of gladness shone on hpr face ; then, almost instinc- 
tively, she seemed to shrink from him, and she was reserved, dis- 
tant, and formal. 

He introduced her to the old lady, who said something nice to 
her about her sister. The young man was looking wistfully at her, 
troubled at heart that she treated him so coldly. 

“ I have got to break some news to you,” he said ; “ perhaps 
you will consider it good news.” 

She looked up quickly. 

“ Nothing has happened to anybody — only some one has ar- 
rived. Mr. Roscorla is at the inn.” 

She did not flinch. He was vexed with her that she showed 
no sign of fear or dislike. On the contrary, she quickly said that 
she must then go down to the inn ; and she bade them both good- 
bye, in a placid and ordinary way ; while he drove off, with dark 
thoughts crowding into his imagination of what might happen 
down at the inn during the next few days. He was angry with 
her, he scarcely knew why. 

Meanwhile Wenna, apparently quite calm, went on down the 
road ; but there was no more laughing in her voice, no more light 
in her face. 

“ Miss Wenna,” said the smaller of the two children, who could 
not understand this change, and who looked up with big, wonder- 
ing eyes, “ why does oo tremble so 2” 


SOME OLD FRIENDS. 


255 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

SOME OLD FRIENDS. 

When they heard that Wenna was coming down the road they 
left Mr. Roscorla alone : lovers like to have their meetings and 
partings unobserved. 

She went into the room, pale and yet firm — there was even a 
sense of gladness in her heart that now she must know the worst. 
What would he say ? How would he receive her ? She knew that 
she was at his mercy. 

Well, Mr. Roscorla at this moment was angry enough, for he 
had been deceived and trifled with in his absence, but he was also 
anxious, and his anxiety caused him to conceal his anger. He 
came forward to her with quite a pleasant look on his face ; he 
kissed her and said — 

“Why, now, Wenna, how frightened you seem! Did you 
think I was going to scold you ? No, no, no — I hope there is no 
necessity for that. I am not unreasonable or over-exacting, as a 
younger man might be ; I can make allowances. Of course I can’t 
say I liked what you told me, when I first heard of it ; but then 
I reasoned with myself : I thought of your lonely position ; of the 
natural liking a girl has for the attention of a young man ; of the 
possibility of any one going thoughtlessly wrong. And really I 
see no great harm done. A passing fancy — that is all.” 

“ Oh, I hope that is so !” she cried suddenly, with a pathetic 
earnestness of appeal. “ It is so good of you, so generous of you 
to speak like that !” 

For the first time she ventured to raise her eyes to his face. 
They were full of gratitude. Mr. Roscorla complimented himself 
on his knowledge of women ; a younger man would have flown 
into a fury. 

“ Oh dear, yes, Wenna !” he said lightly, “ I suppose all girls 
have their fancies stray a little bit from time to time ; but is there 
any harm done ? None whatever ! There is nothing like mar- 


256 


THREE FEATHERS. 


riage to fix the affections, as I hope you will discover ere long — 
the sooner the better, indeed. Now we will dismiss all those un- 
pleasant matters we have been writing about.” 

“Then you do forgive me? You are not really angry with 
me ?” she said ; and then, finding a welcome assurance in his face, 
she gratefully took his hand and touched it with her lips. 

This little act of graceful submission quite conquered Mr. Ros- 
corla, and definitely removed all lingering traces of anger from his 
heart. He was no longer acting clemency when he said — with a 
slight blush on his forehead — 

“You know, Wenna, I have not been free from blame either. 
That letter — it was merely a piece of thoughtless anger ; but still 
it was very kind of you to consider it cancelled and withdrawn 
when I asked you. Well, I was in a bad temper at that time. 
You cannot look at things so philosophically when you are far 
away from home ; you feel yourself so helpless ; and you think 
you are being unfairly — However, not another word ! Come, 
let us talk of all your affairs, and all the work you have done 
since I left.” 

It was a natural invitation ; and yet it revealed in a moment 
the hollowness of the apparent reconciliation between them. 
What chance of mutual confidence could there be between these 
two? 

He asked Wenna if she had been busy in his absence ; and the 
thought immediately occurred to him that she had had at least 
sufficient leisure to go walking about with young Trelyon. 

He asked her about the Sewing Club; and she stumbled into 
the admission that Mr. Trelyon had presented that association 
with six sewing-machines. 

Always Trelyon — always the recurrence of that uneasy con- 
sciousness of past events, which divided these two as completely 
as the Atlantic had done. It was a strange meeting, after that 
long absence. 

“ It is a curious thing,” he said, rather desperately, “ how mar- 
riage makes a husband and wife sure of each other. Anxiety is 
all over then. We have near us, out in Jamaica, several men 
whose wives and families are here in England ; and they accept 
their exile there as an ordinary commercial necessity. But then 
they put their whole minds into their work ; for they know that 
when they return to England they will find their wives and farm 


SOME OLD FRIENDS. 


257 


ilies just as they left them. Of course, in the majority of cases, 
the married men there have taken their wives out with them. 
Do you fear a long sea-voyage, Wenna?” 

“ I don’t know,” she said, rather startled. 

“ You ought to be a good sailor, you know.” 

She said nothing to that : she was looking down, dreading 
what was coming. 

“ I am sure you must be a good sailor. I have heard of many 
of your boating adventures. Weren’t you rather fond, some years 
ago, of going out at night with the Lundy pilots ?” 

“ I have never gone a long voyage in a large vessel,” Wenna 
said, rather faintly. 

“ But if there was any reasonable object to be gained, an or- 
dinary sea-voyage would not frighten you?” 

“ Perhaps not.” 

“ And they have really very good steamers going to the West 
Indies.” 

“ Oh, indeed.” 

“ First-rate ! You get a most comfortable cabin.” 

“I thought you rather — in your description of it — in your 
first letter — ” 

“Oh,” said he, hurriedly and lightly (for he had been claim- 
ing sympathy on account of the discomfort of his voyage out), 
“ perhaps I made a little too much of that. Besides, I did not 
make a proper choice in time. One gains experience in such 
matters. Now, if you were going out to Jamaica, I should see 
that you had every comfort.” 

“But you don’t wish me to go out to Jamaica?” she said, al- 
most retreating from him. 

“Well,” said he, with a smile, for his only object at present 
was to familiarize her with the idea, “ I don’t particularly wish it, 
unless the project seemed a good one to you. You see, Wenna, 
I find that my stay there must be longer than I expected. When 
I went out at first the intention of my partners and myself was 
that I should merely be on the spot to help our manager by com- 
paring his accounts at the moment, and undertaking a lot of 
work of that sort, which otherwise would have consumed time in 
correspondence. I was merely to see the whole thing well start- 
ed, and then return. But now I find that my superintendence 
may be needed there for a long while. Just when everything 
17 


258 


THREE FEATHERS. 


promises so well, I should not like to imperil all our chances 
simply for a year or two.” 

“Oh no, of course not,” Wenna said; she had no objection to 
his remaining in Jamaica for a year or two longer than he had 
intended. 

“ That being so,” he continued, “ it occurred to me that per- 
haps you might consent to our marriage before I leave England 
again ; and that, indeed, you might even make up your mind to 
try a trip to Jamaica. Of course, we should have considerable 
spells of holiday, if you thought it was worth while coming home 
for a short time. I assure you, you would find the place delight- 
ful — far more delightful than anything I told you in my letters, 
for I’m not very good at describing things. And there is a fair 
amount of society.” 

He did not prefer the request in an impassioned manner. On 
the contrary, he merely felt that he was satisfying himself by 
carrying out an intention he had formed on his voyage home. If, 
he had said to himself, Wenna and he became friends, he would 
at least suggest to her that she might put an end to all further 
suspense and anxiety by at once marrying him and accompany- 
ing him to Jamaica. 

“ What do you say ?” he said, with a friendly smile. “ Or have 
I frightened you too much ? Well, let us drop the subject alto- 
gether for the present.” 

Wenna breathed again. 

“Yes,” said he, good-naturedly, “you can think over it. In 
the mean time do not harass yourself about that or anything else. 
You know, I have come home to spend a holiday.” 

“ And won’t you come and see the others ?” said Wenna, rising, 
with a glad look of relief on her face. 

“ Oh yes, if you like,” he said ; and then he stopped short, and 
an angry gleam shot into his eyes. 

“Wenna, who gave you that ring?” 

“ Oh, Mabyn did,” was the frank reply ; but all the same 
Wenna blushed hotly, for that matter of the emerald ring had not 
been touched upon. 

“ Mabyn did ?” he repeated, somewhat suspiciously. “ She 
must have been in a generous mood.” 

“ When you know Mabyn as well as I do, you will find out 
that she always is,” said Miss Wenna, quite cheerfully ; she was 


SOME OLD FRIENDS. 


259 


indeed in the best of spirits to find that this dreaded interview 
had not been so very frightful after all, and that she had done no 
mortal injury to one who had placed his happiness in her hands. 

When Mr. Roscorla, some time after, set out to walk by him- 
self up to Basset Cottage, whither his luggage had been sent be- 
fore him, he felt a little tired. He was not accustomed to violent 
emotions; and that morning he had gone through a good deal. 
His anger and anxiety had for long been fighting for mastery ; 
and both had reached their climax that morning. On the one 
hand, he wished to avenge himself for the insult paid him, and 
to show that he was not to be trifled with ; on the other hand, 
his anxiety lest he should be unable to make up matters with 
Wenna, led him to put an unusual value upon her. What was 
the result, now that he had definitely won her back to himself? 
What was the sentiment that followed on these jarring emotions 
of the morning? 

To tell the truth, a little disappointment. Wenna was not look- 
ing her best when she entered the room ; even now he remem- 
bered that the pale face rather shocked' him. She was more — 
insignificant, perhaps, is the best word — than he had expected. 
Now that he had got back the prize which he thought he had 
lost, it did not seem to him, after all, to be so wonderful. 

And in this mood he went up and walked into the pretty little 
cottage which had once been his home. “ What ?”. he said to 
himself, looking in amazement at the small old-fashioned parlor, 
and at the still smaller study, filled with books, “ is it possible 
that I ever proposed to myself to live and die in a hole like this ? 
— my only companion a cantankerous old fool of a woman, my 
only occupation reading the newspapers, my only society the 
good folks of the inn ?” 

He thanked God he had escaped. His knocking about the 
world for a bit had opened up his mind. The possibility of his 
having in time a handsome income had let in upon him many 
new and daring ambitions. 

His housekeeper, having expressed her grief that she had just 
posted some letters to him, not knowing that he was returning 
to England, brought in a number of small pass-books and a large 
sheet of blue paper. 

“ If yii bain’t too tired, zor, vor to look over the accounts, ’tis 
all theear but the pultry that Mr. — ” 


260 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Good heavens, Mrs. Cornish !” said he, “ do you think I am 
going to look over a lot of grocers’ bills ?” 

Mrs. Cornish not only hinted in very plain language that her 
master had been at one time particular enough about grocers’ 
bills, and all other bills, however trifling, but further proceeded to 
give him a full and minute account of the various incidental ex- 
penses to which she had been put through young Penny Luke 
having broken a window by flinging a stone from the road ; 
through the cat having knocked down the best teapot ; through 
the pig having got out of its sty, gone mad, and smashed a cu- 
cumber-frame ; and so forth, and so forth. In desperation, Mr. 
Roscorla got up, put on his hat, and went outside, leaving her at 
once astonished and indignant over his want of interest in what 
at one time had been his only care. 

Was this, then, the place in which he had chosen to spend the 
rest of his life, without change, without movement, without in- 
terest ? It seemed to him at the moment a living tomb. There 
was not a human being within sight. Far away out there lay 
the gray-blue sea — a plain without a speck on it. The great black 
crags at the mouth of the harbor were voiceless and sterile ; could 
anything have been more bleak than the bare uplands on which 
the pale sun of an English October was shining ? The quiet 
crushed him ; there was not a nigger near to swear at ; nor could 
he, at the impulse of a moment, get on horseback and ride over 
to the busy and interesting and picturesque scene supplied by his 
faithful coolies at work. 

What was he to do on this very first day in England, for ex- 
ample ? Unpack his luggage, in which were some curiosities he 
had brought home for Wenna? — there was too much trouble in 
that. Walk about the garden and smoke a pipe as had been his 
wont? — he had got emancipated from these delights of dotage. 
Attack his grocers’ bills ? — he swore by all his gods that he would 
have nothing to do with the price of candles and cheese now or at 
any future time. The return of the exile to his native land had 
already produced a feeling of deep disappointment; when he 
married, he said to himself, he would take very good care not to 
sink into an oyster-like life in Eglosilyan. 

About a couple of hours after, however, he was reminded that 
Eglosilyan had its small measure of society by the receipt of a 
letter from Mrs. Trelyon, who said she had just heard of his ar- 


SOME OLD FRIENDS. 


261 


rival, and hastened to ask him whether he would dine at the 
Hall, not next evening, but the following one, to meet two old 
friends of his, General and Lady Weekes, who were there on a 
brief visit. 

“ And I have written to ask Miss Rosewarne,” Mrs. Trelyon 
continued, “ to spare us the same evening, so that we hope to 
have you both. Perhaps you will kindly add your entreaties to 
mine.” 

The friendly intention of this postscript was evident ; and yet 
it did not seem to please Mr. Roscorla. This Sir Percy Weekes 
had been a friend of his father’s ; and when the younger Roscorla 
was a young man about town, Lady Weekes had been very kind 
to him, and had nearly got him married once or twice. There 
was a great contrast between those days and these. He hoped 
the old gentleman would not be tempted to come and visit him 
at Basset Cottage. 

“ Oh, Wenna,” said he carelessly to her next morning, “ Mrs. 
Trelyon told me she had asked you to go up there to-morrow 
evening.” 

“ Yes,” Wenna said, looking rather uncomfortable. Then she 
added, quickly, “ Would it displease you if I did not go ? I ought 
to be at a children’s party at Mr. Trewhella’s.” 

This was precisely what Mr. Roscorla wanted ; but he said — 

“You must not be shy, Wenna. However, please yourself; 
you need have no fear of vexing me. But I must go ; for the 
Weekeses are old friends of mine.” 

“ They stayed at the inn two or three days in May last,” said 
Wenna, innocently. “ They came here by chance and found Mrs. 
Trelyon from home.” 

Mr. Roscorla seemed startled. 

“ Oh,” said he. “ Did they — did they — ask for me ?” 

“Yes, I believe they did,” Wenna said. 

“ Then you told them,” said Mr. Roscorla, with a pleasant smile 
— “ you told them, of course, why you were the best person in 
the world to give them information about me ?” 

“ Oh, dear no,” said Wenna, blushing hotly, “ they spoke to 
Jennifer.” 

Mr. Roscorla felt himself rebuked. It was George Rosewarne’s 
express wish that his daughters should not be approached by 
strangers visiting the inn as if they were officially connected with 


262 


THREE FEATHERS. 


the place ; Mr. Roscorla should have remembered that inquiries 
would be made of a servant. 

But, as it happened, Sir Percy and his wife had really made 
the acquaintance of both Wenna and Mabyn on their chance visit 
to Eglosilyan ; and it was of these two girls they were speaking 
when Mr. Roscorla was announced in Mrs. Trelyon’s drawing- 
room the following evening. The thin, wiry, white-moustached 
old man, who had wonderfully bright eyes and a great vivacity of 
spirits for a veteran of seventy-four, was standing in front of the 
fire, and declaring to everybody that two such well-accomplished, 
smart, talkative, and ladylike young women he had never met 
with in his life. 

“What did you say the name was, my dear Mrs. Trelyon? 
Rosewarne, eh? — Rosewarne? A good old Cornish name — as 
good as yours, Roscorla. So they’re called Rosewarne — Gad, 
if her august ladyship there wants to appoint a successor, I’m 
willing to let her choice fall on one o’ those two girls.” 

Her august ladyship — a dark and silent old woman of eighty — 
did not like, in the first place, to be called her august ladyship, 
and did not relish either having her death talked of as a joke. 

“Roscorla, now — Roscorla — there’s a good chance for you, 
eh?” continued the old General. “ We never could get you mar- 
ried, you know — wild young dog. Don’t ye know the girls ?” 

“ Oh yes, Sir Percy,” Mr. Roscorla said, with no great good 
will ; then he turned to the fire and began to warm his hands. 

There was a tall young gentleman standing there who, in for- 
mer days, would have been delighted to cry out on such an oc- 
casion, “ Why, Roscorla’s going to marry one of ’em.” He re- 
mained silent now. 

He was very silent, too, throughout the evening ; and almost 
anxiously civil towards Mr. Roscorla. He paid great attention 
when the latter was describing to the company at table the beau- 
ties of West Indian scenery, the delights of West Indian life, the 
change that had come over the prospects of Jamaica since the in- 
troduction of coolie labor, and the fashion in which the rich mer- 
chants of Cuba were setting about getting plantations there for 
the growth of tobacco. Mr. Roscorla spoke with the air of a man 
who now knew what the world was. When the old General asked 
him if he were coming back to live in Eglosilyan after lie had be- 
come a millionaire, he laughed, and said that one’s coffin came 


SOME OLD FRIENDS. 


263 


soon enough without one’s rushing to meet it. No ; when he 
came back to England finally, he would live in London ; and had 
Sir Percy still that old walled-in house in Brompton ? 

Sir Percy paid less heed to these descriptions of Jamaica than 
Harry Trelyon did, for his next neighbor was old Mrs. Trelyon, and 
these two venerable flirts were falking of old acquaintances and 
old times at Bath and Cheltenham, and of the celebrated beauties, 
wits, and murderers of other days, in a manner which her silent 
ladyship did not at all seem to approve. The General was bring- 
ing out all his old-fashioned gallantry-compliments, easy phrases 
in French, polite attentions ; his companion began to use her fan 
with a coquettish grace, and was vastly pleased when a reference 
was made to her celebrated flight to Gretna Green. 

“ Ah, Sir Percy,” she said, “ the men were men in those days, 
and the women women, I promise you ; no beating about the 
bush, but the fair word given, and the fair word taken ; and then 
a broken head for whoever should interfere — father, uncle, or 
brother, no matter who ; and you know our family, Sir Percy, our 
family were among the worst — ” 

“ I tell you what, madam,” said the General, hotly, “ your fam- 
ily had among ’em the handsomest women in the west of Eng- 
land — and the handsomest men, too,- by Gad ! Do you remember 
Jane Swanhope — the Fair Maid of Somerset they used to call her 
— that married the fellow living down Yeovil way, who broke his 
neck in a steeplechase ?” 

“Do I remember her?” said the old lady. “She was one of 
my bridesmaids when they took me up to London to get married 
properly after I came back. She was my cousin on the mother’s 
side ; but they were connected with the Trelyons, too. And do 
you remember old John Trelyon of Polkerris ; and did you ever 
see a man straighter in the back than he was, at seventy-one, when 
he married his second wife — that was at Exeter, I think. But 
there now, you don’t find such men and women in these times ; 
and do you know the reason of that, Sir Percy ? I’ll tell you ; 
it’s the doctors. The doctors can keep all the sickly ones alive 
now ; before it was only the strong ones that lived. Dear, dear 
me ! when I hear some of those London women talk — it is nothing 
but a catalogue of illnesses and diseases. No wonder they should 
say in church, ‘ There is no health in us ;’ every one of them has 
something the matter, even the young girls, poor things; and 


264 


THREE FEATHERS. 


pretty mothers they’re likely to make ! They’re a misery to them- 
selves ; they’ll bring miserable things into the world ; and all be- 
cause the doctors have become so clever in pulling sickly people 
through. That’s my opinion, Sir Percy. The doctors are re- 
sponsible for five sixths of all the suffering you hear of in fam- 
ilies, either through illness or the losing of one’s friends and rel- 
atives.” 

“Upon my word, madam,” the General protested, “you use 
the doctor badly. He is blamed if he kills people, and he is 
blamed if he keeps them alive. What is he to do ?” 

“ Do ? He can’t help saving the sickly ones now,” the old lady 
admitted ; “ for relatives will have it done, and they know he can 
do it ; but it’s a great misfortune, Sir Percy, that’s what it is, to 
have all these sickly creatures growing up to intermarry into the 
good old families that used to be famous for their comeliness and 
strength. There was a man — yes, I remember him well — that came 
from Devonshire — he was a man of good family, too, and they 
made such a noise about his wrestling. Said I to myself, wrest- 
ling is not a fit amusement for gentlemen, but if this man comes 
up to our county, there’s one or other of the Trelyons will try 
his mettle. And well I remember saying to my eldest son George 
— you remember when he was a young man, Sir Percy, no older 
than his own son there — ‘ George,’ I said, ‘ if this Mr. So-and-so 
comes into these parts, mind you have nothing to do with him ; 
for wrestling is not fit for gentlemen.’ ‘ All right, mother,’ said 
he ; but he laughed, and I knew what the laugh meant. My dear 
Sir Percy, I tell you the man hadn’t a chance — I heard of it all 
afterwards. George caught him up, before he could begin any 
of his tricks, and flung him onto the hedge — and there were a 
dozen more in our family who could have done it, I’ll be bound.” 

“ But then, you know, Mrs. Trelyon,” Mr. Roscorla ventured to 
say, “ physical strength is not everything that is needed. If the 
doctors were to let the sickly ones die, we might be losing all sorts 
of great poets and statesmen and philosophers.” 

The old lady turned on him. 

“ And do you think a man has to be sickly to be clever ! No, 
no, Mr. Roscorla, give him better health and you give him a bet- 
ter head, that’s what we believed in the old days. I fancy, now, 
there were greater men before all this coddling began than there 
are now — yes, I do ; and if there is a great man coming into the 


SOME OLD FRIENDS. 


265 


world, the chances are just as much that he’ll be among the strong 
ones as among the sickly ones — what do you think, Sir Percy ?” 

“I declare you’re right, madam,” said he, gallantly. “You’ve 
quite convinced me. Of course, some of ’em must go — I say, let 
the sickly ones go.” 

“ I never heard such brutal, such murderous sentiments ex- 
pressed in my life before,” said a solemn voice ; and every one 
became aware that at last Lady Weekes had spoken. Her speech 
was the signal for universal silence, in the midst of which the la- 
dies got up and left the room. 

Trelyon took his mother’s place, and sent around the wine. 
He was particularly attentive to Mr. Roscorla, who was surprised. 
“ Perhaps,” thought the latter, “ he is anxious to atone for all this 
bother that is now happily over.” 

If the younger man was silent and preoccupied, that was not 
the case with Mr. Roscorla, who was already assuming the airs of 
a rich person, and speaking of his being unable to live in this 
district or that district of London, just as if he expected to pur- 
chase a lease of Buckingham Palace on his return from Jamaica. 

“ And how are all my old friends in Hans Place, Sir Percy ?” 
he cried. 

“ You’ve been a deserter, sir — you’ve been a deserter for many 
a year now,” the General said gayly, “but we’re all willing to 
have you back again, to a quiet rubber after dinner, you know. 
Do you remember old John Thwaites ? Ah, he’s gone now — left 
£150,000 to build a hospital, and only £5000 to his sister. The 
poor old woman believed some one would marry her when she 
got the whole of her brother’s money — so I’m told — and when 
the truth became known, what did she do? Gad, sir, she wrote 
a novel abusing her own brother. By the way, that reminds me 
of a devilish good thing I heard when I was here last — down at 
the inn, you know — what’s the name of the girls I was talking 
about ? Well, her ladyship caught one of them reading a novel, 
and not very well pleased with it, and says she to the young lady, 
‘ Don’t you like that book V Then says the girl — let me see what 
was it ? — Gad, I must go and ask her ladyship — ” 

And off he trotted to the drawing-room. He came back in a 
couple of minutes. 

“Of course,” said he. “Devilish stupid of me to forget it. 
‘ Why ?’ said the young lady, ‘ I think the author has been trying 


266 


THREE FEATHERS. 


to keep the second commandment, for there’s nothing in the book 
that has any likeness to anything in heaven above, or in the earth 
beneath, or the heavens under the earth — ’ ” 

“ The waters under the earth.” 

“I mean the waters, of course. Gad, her ladyship was im- 
mensely tickled.” 

“ Which of the two young ladies was it, Sir Percy ? The 
younger, I suppose ?” said Mr. Roscorla. 

“ No, no, the elder sister, of course,” said Trelyon. 

“ Yes, the elder one it was — the quiet one — and an uncommon 
nice girl she is. Well, there’s Captain Walters — the old sea-dog 
— still to the fore ; and his uniform too — don’t you remember the 
uniform with the red cuffs that hasn’t been seen in the navy for 
a couple of centuries, I should think ? His son’s got into Parlia- 
ment now — gone over to the Rads, and the working-men, and 
those fellows that are scheming to get the land divided among 
themselves — all in the name of philosophy — and it’s a devilish 
fine sort of philosophy, that is, when you haven’t a rap in your 
pocket, and when you prove that everybody who has must give 
it up. He came to my house the other day, and he was jawing 
away about Primogeniture, and Entail, and Direct Taxation, and 
equal electoral districts, and I don’t know what besides. ‘Wal- 
ters,’ said I — ‘ Walters, you’ve got nothing to share, and so you 
don’t mind a general division. When you have, you’ll want to 
stick to what’s in your own pocket.’ Had him there, eh ?” 

The old General beamed and laughed over his smartness ; he 
was conscious of having said something that, in shape at least, 
was like an epigram. 

“ I must rub up my acquaintance in that quarter,” said Ros- 
corla, “ before I leave again. Fortunately, I have always kept up 
my club subscription ; and you’ll come and dine with me, Sir 
Percy, won’t you, when I get to town ?” 

“ Are you going to town?” said Trelyon, quickly. 

“ Oh yes, of course.” 

“ When ?” 

The question was abrupt, and it made Roscorla look at the 
young man as he answered. Trelyon seemed to him to be very 
much harassed about something or other. 

“ Well, I suppose in a week or so ; I am only home for a holi- 
day, you know.” 


SOME OLD FRIENDS. 


267 


“ Oh, you’ll be here for a week ?” said the young man, submis- 
sively. “ When do you think of returning to Jamaica ?” 

“Probably at the beginning of next month. Fancy leaving 
England in November — just at the most hideous time of the year 
— and in a week or two getting out into summer again, with the 
most beautiful climate, and foliage, and what not, all around you ! 
I can tell you a man makes a great mistake who settles down to 
a sort of vegetable life anywhere — you don’t catch me at that 
again.” 

“ There’s some old women,” observed the General, who was so 
anxious to show his profundity that he quite forgot the invid- 
ious character of the comparison, “who are just like trees — as 
much below the ground as above it — isn’t that true, eh ? They’re 
a deal more at home among the people they have buried than 
among those that are alive. I don’t say that’s your case, Ros- 
corla. You’re comparatively a young man yet — you’ve got brisk 
health — I don’t wonder at your liking to knock about. As for 
you, young Trelyon, what do you mean to do ?” 

Harry Trelyon started. 

“ Oh,” said he, with some confusion, “ I have no immediate 
plans. Yes, I have — don’t you know I have been cramming for 
the Civil Service examinations for first commissions ?” 

“ And what the devil made the War Office go to those civilians ?” 
muttered the General. 

“ And if I pull through, I shall want all your influence to get 
me gazetted to a good regiment. Don’t they often shunt you 
onto the First or Second West Indians ?” 

“And you’ve enough money to back you too,” said the Gen- 
eral. “ I tell you what it is, gentlemen, if they abolish the pur- 
chase of commissions in the army — and they’re always talking 
about it — they don’t know what they’ll bring about. They’ll 
have two sets of officers in the army — men with money, who like 
a good mess, and live far beyond their pay, and men with no 
money at all, who’ve got to live on their pay, and how can they 
afford the regimental mess out of that? But Parliament won’t 
stand it, you’ll see. The War Minister’ll be beaten if he brings 
it on— take my word for that.” 

The old General had probably never heard of a royal warrant 
and its mighty powers. 

“ So you’re going to be one of us ?” he said to Trelyon. “ Well, 


268 


THREE FEATHERS. 


you’ve a smart figure for a uniform. You’re the first of your side 
of the family to go into the army, eh ? You had some naval men 
among you, eh ?” 

“ I think you’d better ask my grandmother,” said young Tre- 
lyon, with a laugh ; “ she’ll tell you stories about ’em by the hour 
together.” 

“She’s a wonderful woman that — a wonderful old creature,” 
said the General, just as if he were a sprightly young fellow talk- 
ing of the oldest inhabitant of the district. “ She’s not one of 
them that are half buried ; she’s wide enough awake, I’ll be bound. 
Gad, what a handsome woman she was when I saw her first. Well, 
lads, let’s join the ladies ; I’m none of your steady -going old to- 
pers. Enough’s as good’s a feast — that’s my motto. And I can’t 
write my name on a slate with my knuckles, either.” 

And so they went into the large, dimly lighted red chamber, 
where the women were having tea around the blazing fire. The 
men took various chairs about ; the conversation became general ; 
old Lady Weekes feebly endeavored to keep up her eyelids. In 
about half an hour or so Mrs. Trelyon happened to glance around 
the room. 

“ Wneres Harry?” said she. 

No one apparently had noticed that Master Harry had disap- 
peared. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A DARK CONSPIRACY. 

Now, when Harry Trelyon drove up to the Hall, after leaving 
Wenna Rosewarne in the road, he could not tell why he was vex- 
ed with her. He imagined somehow that she should not have 
allowed Mr. Roscorla to come home — and to come home just at 
this moment, when he, Trelyon, had stolen down for a couple of 
days to have a shy look at the sweetheart who was so far out of 
his reach. She ought to have been alone. Then she ought not 
to have looked so calm and complacent on going away to meet 
Mr. Roscorla ; she ought to have been afraid. She ought to have 
— in short, everything was wrong, and Wenna was largely to blame. 

“ Well, grandmother,” said he, as they drove through the av- 


A DARK CONSPIRACY. 


269 


enue, “ don’t you expect every minute to flush a covey of par- 
sons ?” 

He was angry with Wenna ; and so he broke out once more in 
his old vein. 

“ There are worse men than the parsons, Harry,” the old lady 
said. 

“ I’ll bet you a sovereign there are two on the door-step.” 

He would have lost. There was not a clergyman of any sort 
in or about the house. 

“ Isn’t Mr. Barnes here ?” said he to his mother. 

Mrs. Trelyon flushed slightly, as she said — 

“ No, Harry, Mr. Barnes is not here. Nor is he likely to visit 
here again.” 

Now Mr. Roscorla would at once have perceived what a strange 
little story lay behind that simple speech ; but Mr. Harry, paying 
no attention to it, merely said he was heartily glad to hear of it, 
and showed his gratitude by being unusually polite to his mother 
during the rest of his stay. 

“ And so Mr. Roscorla has come back,” his mother said. “ Gen- 
eral Weekes was asking about him only yesterday. We must see 
if he will come up to dinner the night after to-morrow — and Miss 
Rosewarne also.” 

“You may ask her — you ought to ask her — but she won’t 
come,” said he. 

“ How do you know ?” Mrs. Trelyon said, with a gentle wonder. 
“ She has been here very often of late.” 

“ Have you let her walk up ?” 

“No, I have generally driven down for her when I wanted to 
see her; and the way she has been working for these people is 
extraordinary — never tired, always cheerful, ready to be bothered 
by anybody, and patient with their suspicions and simplicity, be- 
yond belief. I am sure Mr. Roscorla will have an excellent wife.” 

“ I am not at all sure that he will,” said her son, goaded past 
endurance. 

“ Why, Harry,” said his mother, with her eyes wide open, “ I 
thought you had a great respect for Miss Rosewarne.” 

“ I have,” he said, abruptly, “ far too great a respect to like 
the notion of her marrying that old fool.” 

“ Would you rather not have him to dinner ?” 

“ Oh, I should like to have him to dinner.” 


270 


THREE FEATHERS. 


For one evening, at least, this young man considered, these two 
would be separated. He was pretty sure that Roscorla would 
come to meet General Weekes; he was positive that Wenna 
would not come to the house while he himself was in it. 

But the notion that, except during this one evening, his rival 
would have free access to the inn, and would spend pleasant hours 
there, and would take Wenna with him for walks along the coast, 
maddened him. He dared not go down to the village, for fear of 
seeing these two together. He walked about the grounds, or went 
away over to the cliffs, torturing his heart with imagining Ros- 
corla’s opportunities. And once or twice he was on the point of 
going straight down to Eglosilyan, and calling on Wenna, before 
Roscorla’s face, to be true to her own heart, and declare herself 
free from this old and hateful entanglement. 

In these circumstances his grandmother was not a good com- 
panion for him. In her continual glorification of the self-will of 
the Trelyons, and her stories of the wild deeds she had done, she 
was unconsciously driving him to some desperate thing, against 
his better judgment. 

“ Why, grandmother,” he said, one day, “you hint that I am 
a nincompoop because I don’t go and carry off that girl and mar- 
ry her against her will. Is that what you mean by telling me of 
what the men did in former days?. Well, I can tell you this, that 
it would be a deal easier for me to try that than not to try it. 
The difficulty is in holding your hand. But what good would 
you do, after all ? The time has gone by for that sort of thing. 
I shouldn’t like to have on my hands a woman sulking because 
she was married by force — besides, you can’t do these mad freaks 
now — there are too many police-courts about.” 

“ By force ? No !” the old lady said. “ The girls I speak of 
were as glad to run away as the men, I can tell you, and they did 
it, too, when their relations were against the match.” 

“ Of course, if both he and she are agreed, the way is as smooth 
now as it was then ; you don’t need to care much for relations.” 

“ But, Harry, you don’t know what a girl thinks,” this dangerous 
old lady said. “ She has her notions of duty, and her respect for 
her parents, and all that ; and if the man only went and reasoned 
with her, he would never carry the day ; but just as she comes 
out of a ball-room some night, when she is all aglow with fun and 
pleasure, and ready to become romantic with the stars, you see, 


A DARK CONSPIRACY. 


271 


and the darkness, then just show her a carriage, a pair of horses, 
a marriage license, and her own maid to accompany her, and see 
what will happen ! Why, she’ll hop into the carriage like a dicky 
bird ; . then she’ll have a bit of a cry ; and then she’ll recover, and 
be mad with the delight of escaping from those behind her. 
That’s how to win a girl, man ! The sweethearts of these days 
think too much, that’s about it: it’s all done by argument be- 
tween them.” 

“You’re a wicked old woman, grandmother,” said Trelyon, 
with a laugh. “You oughtn’t to put such notions into the head 
of a well-conducted young man like me.” 

“ Well, you’re not such a booby as you used to be, Harry,” 
the old lady admitted. “ Your manners are considerably im- 
proved, and there was much room for improvement. You’re 
growing a good deal like your grandfather.” 

“ But there’s no Gretna Green nowadays,” said Trelyon, as he 
went outside, “ so you can’t expect me to be perfect, grand- 
mother.” 

On the first night of his arrival at Eglosilyan he stole away in 
the darkness down to the inn. * There were no lamps in the steep 
road, which was rendered all the darker by the high rocky bank 
with its rough masses of foliage ; he feared that by accident some 
one might be out and meet him. But in the absolute silence, 
under the stars, he made his way down until he was near the inn ; 
and there, in the black shadow of the road, he stood and looked 
at the lighted windows. Roscorla was doubtless within — lying in 
an easy-chair, probably, by the fire, while Wenna sang her old- 
fashioned songs to him. He would assume the air of being one 
of the family now — only holding himself a little above the fam- 
ily. Perhaps he was talking of the house he meant to take when 
he and Wenna married. 

That was no wholesome food for reflection on which this young 
man’s mind was now feeding. He stood there in the darkness, 
himself white as a ghost, while all the vague imaginings of what 
might be going on within the house seemed to be eating at his 
heart. This, then, was the comfort he had found, by secretly 
stealing away from London for a day or two ; he had arrived just 
in time to find his rival triumphant. 

The private door of the inn was at this moment opened ; a 
warm glow of yellow streamed out into the darkness. 


272 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Good-night,” said some one : was it Wenna? 

“ Good-night,” was the answer ; and then the figure of a man 
passed down the road. 

Trelyon breathed more freely ; at last his rival was out of the 
house. Wenna was now alone ; would she go up into her own 
room, and think over all the events of the day ? And would she 
remember that he had come to Eglosilyan ; and that she could, 
if any such feeling arose in her heart, summon him at need ? 

It was very late that night before Trelyon returned — he had 
gone all round by the harbor and the cliffs, and the high-lying 
church on the hill. All in the house had gone to bed ; but there 
was a fire burning in his study ; and there were biscuits and wine 
on the table. A box of cigars stood on the mantel-piece. 

Apparently he was in no mood for the indolent comfort thus 
suggested. He stood for a minute or two before the fire, staring 
into it, and seeing other things than the flaming coals there ; then 
he moved about the room, in an impatient and excited fashion ; 
finally, with his hand trembling a little bit, he sat down and wrote 
this note : 

“ Dear Mother, — 

“ The horses and carriage will be at Launceston Station by the 
first train on Saturday mornings Will you please send Jakes 

over for them ? And bid him take the horses up to Mr. ’s 

stables, and have them fed, watered, and properly rested before 
he drives them over. “ Your affectionate son, 

“ Harry Trelyon.” 

Next morning, as Mabyn Rosewarne was coming briskly up the 
Trevenna road carrying in her arms a pretty big parcel, she was 
startled by the appearance of a young man, who suddenly show- 
ed himself overhead, and then scrambled down the rocky bank 
until he stood beside her. 

“ I’ve been watching for you all the morning, Mabyn,” said 
Trelyon. “ I — I want to speak to you. Where are you going ?” 

“ Up to Mr. Trewhella’s. You know his granddaughter is very 
nearly quite well again ; and there is to be a great gathering of 
children there to-night to celebrate her recovery. This is a cake 
I am carrying that Wenna has made herself.” 

“ Is Wenna to be there?” Trelyon said, eagerly. 


A DARK CONSPIRACY. 


273 


“ Why, of course,” said Mabyn, petulantly. “ What do you 
think the children could do without her ?” 

“ Look here, Mabyn,” he said. “ I want to speak to you very 
particularly. Couldn’t you just as well go around by the farm 
road ? Let me carry your cake for you.” 

Mabyn guessed what he wanted to speak about, and willingly 
made the circuit by a more private road leading by one of the 
upland farms. At a certain point they came to a stile ; and here 
they rested. So far Trelyon had said nothing of consequence. 

“ Oh, do you know, Mr. Trelyon,” Mabyn remarked, quite in- 
nocently, “ I have been reading such a nice book — all about Ja- 
maica.” 

“ So you’re interested about Jamaica, too ?” said he, rather bit- 
terly. 

“Yes, much. Do you know that it is the most fearful place 
for storms in the whole world — the most awful hurricanes that 
come smashing down everything and killing people. You can’t 
escape if you’re in the way of the hurricane. It whirls the roofs 
off the houses, and twists out the plantain-trees just like straws. 
The rivers wash away whole acres of canes and swamp the farms. 
Sometimes the sea rages so that boats are carried right up into 
the streets of Kingston. There !” 

“ But why does that please you ?” 

“ Why,” she said, with proud indignation, “ the notion of 
people talking as if they could go out to Jamaica and live for- 
ever, and come back just when they please — it is too ridiculous ! 
Many accidents may happen. And isn’t November a very bad 
time for storms? Ships often get wrecked going out to the West 
Indies, don’t they ?” 

At another time Trelyon would have laughed at this blood- 
thirsty young woman ; at this moment he was too serious. 

“ Mabyn,” said he, “ I can’t bear this any longer — standing by 
like a fool and looking on while another man is doing his best to 
marry Wenna: I can’t go on like this any longer. Mabyn, when 
did you say she would leave Mr. Trewhella’s house to-night ?” 

“ I did not say anything about it. I suppose we shall leave 
about ten ; the young ones leave at nine.” 

“ You will be there ?” 

“ Yes, Wenna and I are to keep order.” 

“ Nobody else with you ?” 

18 


274 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ No.” 

He looked at her rather hesitatingly. 

“ And supposing, Mabyn,” he said slowly, “ supposing you and 
Wenna were to leave at ten, and that it i« a beautiful clear night, 
you might walk down by the wood instead of by the road ; and 
then, supposing that you came out on the road down at the foot, 
and you found there a carriage and pair of horses — ■” 

Mabyn began to look alarmed. 

“ And if I was there,” he continued, more rapidly, “ and I said 
to Wenna suddenly, ‘ Now, Wenna, think nothing, but come and 
save yourself from this marriage ! Here is your sister will come 
with you — and I will drive you to Plymouth — ’ ” 

“ Oh, Mr. Trelyon !” Mabyn cried, with a sudden joy in her face, 
“ she would do it ! She would do it !” 

“ And you, would you come too ?” he demanded. 

“ Yes !” the girl cried, full of excitement. “ And then, Mr. Tre- 
lyon, and then ?” 

“ Why,” he cried boldly, “ up to London at once — twenty-four 
hours’ start of everybody — and in London we are safe ! Then, 
you know, Mabyn — ” 

“ Yes, yes, Mr. Trelyon !” 

“ Don’t you think now that we two could persuade her to a 
quick marriage — with a special license, you know — you could per- 
suade her, I am sure, Mabyn — ” 

In the gladness of her heart Mabyn felt herself at this moment 
ready to fall on the young man’s neck and kiss him. But she was 
a properly conducted young person ; and so she rose from the big 
block of slate on which she had been sitting, and managed to sup- 
press any great intimation of her abounding joy. But she was 
very proud, all the same ; and there was a great firmness about 
her lips as she said — 

“We will do it, Mr. Trelyon ; we will do it. Do you know why 
Wenna submits to this engagement? Because she reasons with 
her conscience, and persuades herself that it is right. When you 
meet her like that, she will have no time to consider — ” 

“ That is precisely what my grandmother says,” Trelyon said, 
with a triumphant laugh. 

“Yes, she was a girl once,” Mabyn replied, sagely. “Well, 
well, tell me all about it ! What arrangements have you made ? 
You haven’t got the special license?” 


A DARK CONSPIRACY. 


275 


“ No,” said he, “ I didn’t make up my mind to try this on till 
last night. But the difference of a day is nothing, when you are 
with her. We shall be able to hide ourselves away pretty well in 
London, don’t you think ?” 

“ Of course !” cried Mabyn, confidently. “ But tell me more, 
Mr. Trelyon ! What have you arranged ? What have you 
done ?” 

“ What could I do until I knew whether you’d help me ?” 

“ You must bring a fearful amount of wraps with you.” 

“Certainly — more than you’ll want, I know. And I sha’n’t 
light the lamps until I hear you coming along; for they would 
attract attention down in the valley. I should like to wait for 
you elsewhere ; but if I did that you couldn’t get Wenna to come 
with you. Do you think you will even then ?” 

“Oh yes,” said Mabyn, cheerfully. “Nothing easier! I shall 
tell her she’s afraid ; and then she would walk down the face of 
Black Cliff. By the way, Mr. Trelyon, I must bring something 
to eat with me, and some wine — she will be so nervous — and the 
long journey will tire her.” 

“You will be at Mr. Trewhella’s, Mabyn; you can’t go carry- 
ing things about with you !” 

“ I could bring a bit of cake in my pocket,” Mabyn suggested ; 
but this seemed even to her so ludicrous that she blushed and 
laughed, and agreed that Mr. Trelyon should bring the necessary 
provisions for the wild night-ride to Plymouth. 

“ Oh, it does so please me to think of it !” she said with a curi- 
ous anxious excitement as well as gladness in her face ; “ I hope 
I have not forgotten to arrange anything. Let me see — we start 
at ten ; then down through the wood to the road in the hollow 
— oh, I hope there will be nobody coming along just then ! — 
then you light the lamps — then you come forward to persuade 
Wenna — by the way, Mr. Trelyon, where must I go ? Shall I not 
be dreadfully in the way ?” 

“You? You must stand by the horses’ heads! I sha’n’t 
have my man with me. And yet they’re not very fiery animals 
— they’ll be less fiery, the unfortunate wretches, when they get to 
Plymouth.” 

“ At what time ?” 

“ About half-past three in the morning, if we go straight on,” 
said he. 


276 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Do you know a good hotel there ?” said the practical Mabyn. 

“ The best one is by the station ; but if you sleep in the front 
of the house, you have the whistling of engines all night long, 
and if you sleep in the back, you overlook a barracks, and the 
confounded trumpeting begins about four o’clock, I think.” 

“ Wenna and I won’t mind that — we shall be too tired,” Mabyn 
said. “ Do you think they could give us a little hot coffee when 
we arrive?” 

“ Oh yes ! I’ll give the night-porter a sovereign a cup — then 
he’ll offer to bring it to you in buckets. Now don’t you think the 
whole thing is beautifully arranged, Mabyn ?” 

“ It is quite lovely !” the girl said joyously, “ for we shall be 
off with the morning train to London, while Mr. Roscorla is pot- 
tering about Launceston Station at mid-day ! Then we must send 
a telegram from Plymouth, a fine dramatic telegram ; and my 
father, he will swear a little, but be quite content, and my mother 
— do you know, Mr. Trelyon, I believe my mother will be as glad 
as anybody ! What shall we say ? — ‘ To Mr. Rosewarne , Eglo- 
silyan. We have fled. Not the least good pursuing us. May 
as well make up your mind to the inevitable. Will write to-mor- 
row.' Is that more than the twenty words for a shilling ?” 

“ We sha’n’t grudge the other shilling if it is,” the young man 
said. “ Now you must go on with your cake, Mabyn. I am off 
to see after the horses’ shoes. Mind, as soon after ten as you 
can — just where the path from the wood comes into the main 
road.” 

Then she hesitated, and for a second or two she remained thought- 
ful and silent ; while he was inwardly hoping that she was not go- 
ing to draw back. Suddenly she looked up at him, with earnest 
and anxious eyes. 

“ Oh, Mr. Trelyon,” she said, “ this is a very serious thing. 
You — you will be kind to our Wenna after she is married to 
you ?” 

“ You will see, Mabyn,” he answered, gently. 

“ You don’t know how sensitive she is,” she continued, appar- 
ently thinking over all the possibilities of the future in a much 
graver fashion than she had done. “ If you were unkind 
to her, it would kill her. Are you quite sure you won’t regret 
it?” 

“Yes, I am quite sure of that,” said he, “as sure as a man may 


A DARK CONSPIRACY. 


277 


be. I don’t think you need fear my being unkind to Wenna. 
Why, what has put such thoughts into your head ?” 

“ If you were to be cruel to her or indifferent,” she said, slowly 
and absently, “ I know that would kill her. But I know more 
than that. I would kill you” 

“ Mabyn,” he said, quite startled, “ whatever has put such 
thoughts into your head?” 

“ Why,” she said, passionately, “ haven’t I seen already how a 
man can treat her? Haven’t I read the insolent letters he has 
sent her? Haven’t I seen her throw herself on her bed, beside 
herself with grief? And — and — these are things I don’t for- 
get, Mr. Trelyon. No, I have got a word to say to Mr. Roscor- 
la yet for his treatment of my sister — and I will say it. And 
then — ” 

The proud lips were beginning to quiver. 

“ Come, come, Mabyn,” said Trelyon, gently, “ don’t imagine 
all men are the same. And perhaps Roscorla will have been paid 
out quite sufficiently when he hears of to-night’s work. I sha’n’t 
bear him any malice after that, I know. Already, I confess, I feel 
a good deal of compunction as regards him.” 

“ I don’t at all — I don’t a bit,” said Mabyn, who very quickly 
recovered herself whenever Mr. Roscorla’s name was mentioned. 
“ If you can only get her to go away with you, Mr. Trelyon, it will 
serve him just right. Indeed, it is on his account that I hope you 
will be successful. I — I don’t quite like Wenna running away 
with you, to tell you the truth — I would rather have her left to a 
quiet decision, and to a marriage with everybody approving. But 
there is no chance of that. This is the only thing that will save 
her.” 

“ That is precisely what I said to you,” Trelyon said, eagerly, 
for he was afraid of losing so invaluable an ally. 

“And you will be very, very kind to her ?” 

“ I’m not good at fine words, Mabyn. You’ll see.” 

She held out her hand to him, and pressed his warmly. 

“ I believe you will be a good husband to her ; and I know you 
will get the best wife in the whole world !” 

She was going away when he suddenly said — 

“ Mabyn !” 

She turned. 

“ Do you know,” said he, rather shamefacedly, “ how much I 


278 


THREE FEATHERS. 


am grateful to you for all your frank straightforward kindness — 
and your help — and your courage — ” 

“ No, no !” said the young girl, good-humoredly. “ You make 
Wenna happy, and don’t consider me !” 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

UNDER THE WHITE STARS. 

During the whole glad evening Wenna had been Queen of the 
Feast, and her subjects had obeyed her with a joyous submission. 
They did not take quite so kindly to Mabyn, for she was sharp 
of tongue and imperious in her ways; but they knew that they 
could tease her elder sister with impunity — always up to the 
well-understood line at which her authority began. That was 
never questioned. 

Then, at nine o’clock, the servants came, some on foot and some 
in dog-carts ; and presently there was a bundling up of tiny fig- 
ures in rugs and wraps, and Wenna stood at the door to kiss each 
of them and say good-bye. It was half-past nine when that per- 
formance was over. 

“ Now, my dear Miss Wenna,” said the old clergyman, “ you 
must be quite tired out with your labors. Come into the study 
— I believe the tray has been taken in there.” 

“ Do you know, Mr. Trewhella,” said Mabyn boldly, “ thatWen- 
na hadn’t time to eat a single bit when all those children were 
gobbling up cake. Couldn’t you let her have a little bit — a ^ittle 
bit of cold meat now — ” 

“ Dear, dear me 1” said the kind old gentleman, in the deepest 
distress, “ that I should not have remembered !” 

There was no use in Wenna protesting. In the snug little 
study she was made to eat some supper ; and if she got off with 
drinking one glass of sherry it was not through the interven- 
tion of her sister, who apparently would have had her drink a 
tumblerful. 

It was not until a quarter past ten that the girls could get 
away. 

“Now I must see you young ladies down to the village, lest 


UNDER THE WHITE STARS. 


279 


some one should run away with you,” the old clergyman said, 
taking down his top-coat. 

“ Oh no, you must not — you must not, indeed, Mr. Trewhella I” 
Mabyn said, anxiously. “ Wenna and I always go about by our- 
selves — and far later than this too. It is a beautiful, clear night! 
Why—” 

Her impetuosity made her sister smile. 

“ You talk as if you would rather like to be run away with, 
Mabyn,” she said. “ But indeed, Mr. Trewhella, you must not 
think of coming with us. It is quite true what Mabyn says.” 

And so they went out into the clear darkness together ; and the 
door was shut ; and they found themselves in the silent world of 
the night-time, with the white stars throbbing overhead. Far 
away in the distance they could hear the murmur of the sea. 

“ Are you cold, Mabyn, that you tremble so ?” said the elder 
sister. 

“ No — only a sort of shiver in coming out into the night 
air.” 

Whatever it was it was soon over. Mabyn seemed to be un- 
usually cheerful. 

“ Wenna,” she said, “you’re afraid of ghosts!” 

“ No, I’m not.” 

“ I know you are.” 

“ I’m not half as much afraid of ghosts as you are, that’s quite 
certain.” , 

“ I’ll bet you you won’t walk down through the wood.” 

“ Just now ?” 

“Yes.” 

“ WTiy, I’ll not only go down through the wood, but I’ll under- 
take to be home before you, though you’ve a broad road to guide 
you. ” 

“ But I did not mean you to go alone.” 

“ Oh,” said Wenna, “you propose to come with me? Then it 
is you who are afraid to go down by yourself ? Oh, Mabyn !” 

“ Never mind, Wenna — let’s go down through the wood just 
for fun.” 

So the two sisters set out, arm-in-arm ; and through some spirit 
of mischief Wenna would not speak a word. Mabyn was gradu- 
ally overawed by the silence, the night, the loneliness of the road, 
and the solemn presence of the great living vault above them. 


280 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Moreover, before getting into the wood, they had to skirt a curi- 
ous little dingle, in the hollow of which are both a church and 
churchyard. Many a time the sisters had come up to this roman- 
tic dell in the spring-time, to gather splendid primroses, sweet 
violets, the yellow celandine, and other wild flowers that grow 
luxuriantly on its steep banks; and very pretty the old church 
looked then, with the clear sunshine of April streaming down 
through the scantily leaved trees into this sequestered spot. Now 
the deep hole was black as night ; and they could only make out 
a bit of the spire of the church as it appeared against the dark 
sky. Nay, was there not a sound among the fallen leaves 
and underwood down there, in the direction of the unseen 
graves ? 

“ Some cow has strayed in there, I believe,” said Mabyn, in a 
somewhat low voice; and she walked rather quickly until they 
got past the place and out on the hill over the wooded val- 
ley. 

“ Now,” said Wenna, cheerfully, not wishing to have Mabyn 
put in a real fright, “ as we go down I am going to tell you some- 
thing, Mabyn. How would you like to have to prepare for a 
wedding in a fortnight ?” 

“ Not at all !” said Mabyn promptly, even fiercely. 

“ Not if it was your own ?” 

“ No — why, the insult of such a request !” 

According to Mabyn’s way of thinking it was an insult to ask 
a girl to marry you in a fortnight, but none to insist on her mar- 
rying you the day after to-morrow. 

“ You think that a girl could fairly plead that as an excuse — 
the mere time to get one’s dresses and things ready ?” 

“ Certainly !” 

“ Oh, Mabyn,” said Wenna, far more seriously, “ it is not of 
dresses I am thinking at all ; but I shudder to think of getting 
married just now. I could not do it. I have not had enough 
time to forget what is past — and until that is done, how could I 
marry any man?” 

“Wenna, I do love you when you talk like that?” her sister 
cried. “You can be so wise and reasonable when you choose! 
Of course you are quite right, dear. But you don’t mean to say 
he wants you to get married before he goes to Jamaica, and then 
to leave you alone ?” 


UNDER THE WHITE STARS. 


281 


“ Oh no. He wants me to go with him to Jamaica.” 

Mabyn uttered a short cry of alarm. 

“ To Jamaica ! To take you away from the whole of us — why 
— oh, Wenna, I do hate being a girl so — for you’re not allowed 
to swear — if I were a man now ! To Jamaica! Why don’t you 
know that there are hundreds of people always being killed there 
by the most frightful hurricanes and earthquakes, and large ser- 
pents in the woods? To Jamaica? — no, you are not going to 
Jamaica just yet ! I don’t think you are going to Jamaica just 
yet !” 

u No, indeed, I am not,” said Wenna, with a quiet decision. 
“ Nor could I think of getting married in any case at present. 
But then — don’t you see, Mabyn — Mr. Roscorla is just a little 
peculiar in some ways — ” 

“ Yes, certainly.” 

“ — And he likes to have a definite reason for what you do. 
If I were to tell him of the repugnance I have to the notion of 
getting married just now, he would call it mere sentiment, and 
try to argue me out of it — then we should have a quarrel. But 
if, as you say, a girl may fairly refuse in point of time — ” 

“ Now, I’ll tell you,” said Mabyn, plainly ; “ no girl can get 
married properly who hasn’t six months to get ready in. She 
might manage in three or four months, for a man she was par- 
ticularly fond of ; but if it is a mere stranger — and a disagreeable 
person — and one who ought not to marry her at all — then six 
months is the very shortest time. Just you send Mr. Roscorla to 
me, and I’ll tell him all about it.” 

Wenna laughed. 

“ Yes, I’ve no doubt you would. I think he’s more afraid of 
you than of all the serpents and snakes in Jamaica.” 

“ Yes, and he’ll have more cause to be before he’s much older,” 
said Mabyn, confidently. 

They could not continue their conversation just then, for they 
were going down the side of the hill, between short trees and 
bushes ; and the path was broad enough only for one, while there 
were many dark places demanding caution. 

“Seen any ghosts yet?” Wenna called out to Mabyn, who was 
behind her. 

“ Ghosts, sir ? Ay, ay, sir ! Heave away on the larboard 
beam ! I say, Wenna, isn’t it uncommon dark ?” 


282 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ It is uncommonly dark.” 

“ Gentlemen always say uncommon ; and all the grammars are 
written by gentlemen. Oh, Wenna, wait a bit ; I’ve lost my 
brooch I” 

It was no ruse , for a wonder ; the brooch had, indeed, dropped 
out of her shawl. She felt all over the dark ground for it, but 
her search was in vain. 

“ Well, here’s a nice thing ! Upon my — ” 

“ Mabyn !” 

“ Upon my — trotting pony ; that was all I was going to say. 
Wenna, will you stay here for a minute, and I’ll run down to the 
foot of the hill and get a match ?” 

“How can you get a match at the foot of the hill? You’ll 
have to go on to the inn. No, tie your handkerchief around the 
foot of one of the trees, and come up early in the morning to 
look.” 

“ Early in the morning ?” said Mabyn. “ I hope to be in — 
I mean asleep then.” 

Twice she had nearly blurted out the secret ; and it is highly 
probable that her refusal to adopt Wenna’s suggestion would have 
led her sister to suspect something, had not Wenna herself, by 
accident, kicked against the missing brooch. As it was, the time 
lost by this misadventure was grievous to Mabyn, who now in- 
sisted on leading the way, and went along through the bushes at 
a rattling pace. Here and there the belated wanderers startled 
a blackbird, -that went shrieking its fright over to the other side 
of the valley ; but Mabyn was now too much preoccupied to be 
unnerved. 

“ Keeping a look-out ahead ?” Wenna called. 

“Ay, ay, sir ! No ghosts on the weather quarter ! Ship draw- 
ing twenty fathoms, and the mate fast asleep. Oh, Wenna, my 
hat!” 

It had been twitched off her head by one of the branches of 
the young trees through which she was passing, and the pliant 
bit of wood, being released from the strain, had thrown it down 
into the dark bushes and briers. 

“Well, I’m — no, I’m not!” said Mabyn, as she picked out the 
hat from among the thorns, and straightened the twisted feather. 
Then she set out again, impatient over these delays ; and yet de- 
termined not to let her courage sink. 


UNDER THE WHITE STARS. 


283 


“Land ahead yet?” called out Wenna. 

“ Ay, ay, sir ! and the Lizard on our lee ! Wind S. S.W., and 
the cargo shifting a point to the east. Hurrah !” 

“ Mabyn, they’ll hear you a mile off !” 

It was certainly Mabyn’s intention that she should be heard at 
least a quarter of a mile off, for now they had got down to the 
open, and they could hear the stream some way ahead of them 
which they would have to cross. At this point Mabyn paused 
for a second to let her sister overtake her ; then they went on 
arm-in-arm. 

“Oh, Wenna,” she said, “do you remember 1 young Lochin- 
var V ” 

“ Of course !” 

“ Didn’t you fall in love with him when you read about him ? 
Now, there was somebody to fall in love with ! Don’t you re- 
member, when he came into Netherby Hall, that 

‘The bride-maidens whispered, “’Twere better by far 
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar!”' 

And then you know, Wenna — 

‘One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, 

When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near; 

So light to the croup the fair lady he swung, 

So light to the saddle before her he sprung! 

“She is won! we are gone — over bank, bush, and scaur! 

They’ll have fleet steeds that follow,” quoth young Lochinvar.’ 

That was a lover now !” 

“ I think he was a most impertinent young man,” said Wenna. 
“ I rather like a young man to be impertinent,” said Mabyn, 
boldly. 

“ Then there won’t be any difficulty about fitting you with a 
husband,” said Wenna, with a light laugh. 

Here Mabyn once more went on ahead, picking her steps 
through the damp grass as she made her way down to the stream. 
Wenna was still in the highest of spirits. 

“ Walking the plank yet, boatswain ?” she called out. 

“ Not yet, sir,” Mabyn called in return. “ Ship wearing round 
on the leeward tack, and the waves running mountains high. 
Don’t you hear ’em, captain ?” 

“ Look out for the breakers, boatswain !” 


284 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“Ay, ay, sir! All hands on deck to man the captain’s gig! 
Belay away there ! Avast! Mind, Wenna! here’s the bridge !” 

Crossing over that single plank, in the dead of the night, was 
a sufficiently dangerous experiment ; but both these young ladies 
had had plenty of experience in keeping their wits about them in 
more perilous places. 

“ Why are you in such a hurry, Mabyn ?” Wenna said, when 
they had crossed. 

Mabyn did not know what to answer ; she was very much ex- 
cited, and inclined to talk at random merely to cover her anxiety. 
She was now very late for the appointment, and who could tell 
what unfortunate misadventure Harry Trelyon might have met 
with ? 

“ Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “ Why don’t you admire young 
Lochinvar? Wenna, you’re like the Lacedaemons.” 

“ Like the what ?” 

“ Like the Lacedaemons, that were neither cold nor hot. Why 
don’t you admire young Lochinvar ?” 

“ Because he was interfering with another man’s property.” 

“ That man had no right to her,” said Mabyn, talking rather 
wildly, and looking on ahead to the point at which the path 
through the meadows went up the road — “he was a wretched 
animal, I know; I believe he was a sugar -broker, and had just 
come home from Jamaica.” 

“ I believe,” said Wenna — “I believe that young Lochinvar — ” 

She stopped. 

“What’s that?” she said. “What are those two lights up 
there ?” 

“They’re not ghosts: come along, Wenna!” said Mabyn, hur- 
riedly. 

Let us go up to this road, where Harry Trelyon, tortured with 
anxiety and impatience, is waiting. He had slipped away from 
the house pretty nearly as soon as the gentlemen had gone into 
the drawing-room after dinner, and on some excuse or other had 
got the horses put to a light and yet roomy Stanhope phaeton. 
From the stable-yard he drove by a back way into the main road 
without passing in front of the Hall ; then he quietly walked the 
horses down the steep hill, and around the foot of the valley to the 
point at which Mabyn was to make her appearance. 


UNDER THE WHITE STARS. 


285 


But lie dared not stop there ; for now and again some passer- 
by came along the road ; and even in the darkness Mrs. Trelyon’s 
gray horses would be recognized by any of the inhabitants of 
Eglosilyan, who would naturally wonder what Master Harry was 
waiting for. He walked them a few hundred yards one way, then 
a few hundred yards the other; and ever, as it seemed to him, 
the danger was growing greater of some one from the inn or from 
the Hall suddenly appearing and spoiling the whole plan. 

Half-past ten arrived ; and nothing could be heard of the girls. 
Then a horrible thought struck him that Roscorla might by this 
time have left the Hall ; and would he not be coming down to 
this very road on his way up to Basset Cottage? This was no 
idle fear ; it was almost a matter of certainty. 

The minutes rolled themselves out into ages ; he kept looking 
at his watch every few seconds ; yet he could hear nothing from 
the wood or the valley of Mabyn’s approach. Then he got down 
into the road, walked a few yards this way and that, apparently 
to stamp the nervousness out of his system, patted the horses, 
and, finally, occupied himself in lighting the lamps. He was 
driven by the delay into a sort of desperation. Even if Wenna 
and Mabyn did appear now, and if he were successful in his prayer, 
there was every chance of their being interrupted by Roscorla, 
who had without doubt left the Hall some time before. 

Suddenly he stopped in his excited walking up and down. 
Was that a faint “ Hurrah !” that he heard in the distance ? He 
went down to the stile at the junction of the path and the road, 
and listened attentively. Yes, he could hear at least one voice, 
as yet a long way off; but now he had no more doubt. He 
walked quickly back to the carriage. 

“Ho, ho, my hearties!” he said, stroking the heads of the 
horses, “ you’ll have a Dick Turpin’s ride to-night.” 

All the nervousness had gone from him now ; he was full of a 
strange sort of exultation — the joy of a man who feels that the 
crisis in his life has come, and that he has the power and courage 
to face it. 

He heard them come up through the meadow to the stile; it 
was Wenna who was talking ; Mabyn was quite silent. They 
came along the road. 

“ What is this carriage doing here?” Wenna said. 

They drew still nearer. 


286 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ They are Mrs. Trelyon’s horses, and there is no driver — ” 

At this moment Harry Trelyon came quickly forward and stood 
in the road before her ; while Mabyn as quickly went on and dis- 
appeared. The girl was startled, bewildered, but not frightened ; 
for in a second he had taken her by the hand, and then she heard 
him say to her, in an anxious, low, imploring voice — 

“ Wenna, my darling, don’t be alarmed ! See here, I have got 
everything ready to take you away — : and Mabyn is coming with 
us — and you know I love you so that I can’t bear the notion of 
your falling into that man’s hands. Now, Wenna, don’t think 
about it ! Come with me ! We shall be married in London — 
Mabyn is coming with you — ” 

For one brief second or two she seemed stunned and alarmed ; 
then, looking at the carriage, and the earnest suppliant before her, 
the whole truth appeared to flash in upon her. She looked wildly 
around. 

“ Mabyn — ” she was about to say, when he guessed the mean- 
ing of her rapid look. 

“ Mabyn is here. She is quite close by — she is coming with 
us. My darling, won’t you let me save you ! This indeed is our 
last chance. Wenna ! — ” 

She was trembling so that he thought she would fall ; and he 
would have put his arms around her, but that she drew back, and 
in so doing she got into the light, and then he saw the immeas- 
urable pity and sadness of her eyes. 

“ Oh, my love,” she said, with the tears running down her face, 
“ I love you ! I will tell you that now, when we speak for the 
last time. See, I will kiss you — and then you will go away — ” 

“ I will not go away — not without you — this night. Wenna, 
dearest, you have let your heart speak at last — now let it tell you 
what to do !” 

“ Oh, must I go ? Must I go ?” she said ; and then she looked 
wildly around again. 

“ Mabyn !” called out Trelyon, half mad with joy and triumph, 
“ Mabyn, come along ! Look sharp, jump in ! This way, my 
darling !” 

And he took the trembling girl, and half lifted her into the 
carriage. 

“ Oh, my love, what am I doing for you this night I” she said 
to him, with her eyes swimming in tears. 


INTO CAPTIVITY. 


287 


But what was the matter with Mabyn f She was just putting 
her foot on the iron step when a rapidly approaching figure caused 
her to utter a cry of alarm, and she stumbled back into the road 
again. The very accident that Trelyon had been anticipating 
had occurred ; here was Mr. Roscorla, bewildered at first, and then 
blind with rage when he saw what was happening before his eyes. 
In his desperation and anger he was about to lay hold of Mabyn 
by the arm when he was sent staggering backwards half-a-dozen 
yards. 

“Don’t interfere with me now, or by God I will kill you!” 
Trelyon said, between his teeth ; and then he hurried Mabyn into 
the carriage. 

What was the sound then that the still woods heard, under the 
throbbing stars, through the darkness that lay over the land? 
Only the sound of horses’ feet, monotonous and regular, and not 
a word of joy or sorrow uttered by any one of the party thus hur- 
rying on through the night. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

INTO CAPTIVITY. 

Towards eleven o’clock that night Mrs. Rosewarne became a 
little anxious about her girls, and asked her husband to go and 
meet them, or to fetch them away if they were still at Mr. Tre- 
whella’s house. 

“ Can’t they look after themselves ?” said George Rosewarne. 
“ I’ll be bound Mabyn can, anyway. Let her alone to come back 
when she pleases.” 

Then his wife began to fret ; and, as this made him uncom- 
fortable, he said he would walk up the road and meet them. He 
had no intention of doing so, of course ; but it was a good excuse 
for getting away from a fidgety wife. He went outside into the 
clear starlight, and lounged down to the small bridge beside the 
mill, contentedly smoking his pipe. 

There he encountered a farmer who was riding home a cob 
he had bought that day at Launceston; and the farmer and 
he began to have a chat about horses suggested by that circum- 


288 


THREE FEATHERS. 


stance. Oddly enough, their random talk came round to young 
Trelyon. 

“ Your thoroughbreds won’t do for this county,” George Rose- 
warne was saying, “ to go flying a stone wall and breaking your 
neck. No, sir ! I’ll tell you what sort of hunter I should like to 
have for these parts. I’d have him half-bred, short in the leg, 
short in the pastern, short in the back, a good sloping shoulder, 
broad in the chest and the forehead, long in the belly, and just 
the least bit over fifteen hands — eh ! Mr. Thoms ? I don’t think 
beauty’s of much consequence when your neck’s in question. Let 
him be as angular and ragged in the hips as you like, so long’s 
his ribs are well up to the hip-bone. Have you seen that black 
horse that young Trelyon rides ?” 

“ ’Tis a noble beast, sir — a noble beast,” the farmer said ; and 
he would probably have gone on to state what ideal animal had 
been constructed by his lavish imagination had not a man come 
running up at this moment, breathless and almost speechless. 

“ Rosewarne,” stammered Mr. Roscorla, “ a — a word with you ! 
I want to say — ” 

The farmer, seeing he was in the way, called out a careless 
good-night, and rode on. 

“Well, what’s the matter?” said George Rosewarne, a little 
snappishly : he did not like being worried by excitable people. 

“ Your daughters !” gasped Mr. Roscorla. “ They’ve both run 
away — both of them — this minute — with Trelyon ! You’ll have 
to ride after them. They’re straight away along the high-road.” 

“ Both of them ? the infernal young fools !” said Rosewarne. 
“ Why the devil didn’t you stop them yourself ?” 

“ How could I ?” Roscorla said, amazed that the father took 
the flight of his daughters with apparent equanimity. “You 
must make haste, Mr. Rosewarne, or you’ll never catch them.” 

“ I’ve a good mind to let ’em go,” said he sulkily, as he walked 
over to the stables of the inn. “ The notion of a man having to 
set out on a wild-goose chase at this time o’ night ! Run away, 
have they ? and what in all the world have they run away for ?” 

It occurred to him, however, that the sooner he got a horse 
saddled and set out, the less distance he would have to go in pur- 
suit ; and that consideration quickened his movements. 

“ What’s it all about ?” said he to Roscorla, who had followed 
him into the stable. 


INTO CAPTIVITY. 


289 


“ I suppose they mean a runaway match,” said Mr. Roscorla, 
helping to saddle George Rosewarne’s cob, a famous trotter. 

“ It’s that young devil’s limb, Mabyn, I’ll be bound,” said the 
father. “ I wish to heaven somebody would marry her — I don’t 
care who. She’s always up to some confounded mischief.” 

“ No, no, no !” Roscorla said ; “ it’s Wenna he means to mar- 
ry.” 

“ Why, you were to have married Wenna — ” 

“Yes, but—” 

“ Then why didn’t you ? So she’s run away, has she ?” 

George Rosewarne grinned : he saw how the matter lay. 

“This is Mabyn’s work, I know,” said he, as he put his foot 
in the stirrup, and sprang into the saddle. “You’d better go 
home, Roscorla. Don’t you say a word to anybody. You don’t 
want the girl made a fool of all through the place.” 

So George Rosewarne set out to bring back his daughters ; not 
galloping as an anxious parent might, but going ahead with a 
long, steady-going trot, which he knew would soon tell on Mrs. 
Trelyon’s overfed and under-exercised horses. 

“ If they mean Plymouth,” he was thinking, “ as is most likely 
from their taking the high-road, he’ll give it them gently at first. 
And so that young man wants to marry our Wenna. ’Twould 
be a fine match for her ; and yet she’s worth all the money he’s 
got — she’s worth it every farthing. I’d give him the other one 
cheap enough.” 

Pounding along a dark road, with the consciousness that the 
farther you go the farther you’ve got to get back, and that the 
distance still to be done is an indeterminate quantity, is agreeable 
to no one ; but it was especially vexatious to George Rosewarne, 
who liked to take things quietly, and could not understand what 
all the fuss was about. Why should he be sent on this mad chase 
at midnight? If anybody wanted to marry either of the girls, 
why didn’t he do so, and say no more about it ? Rosewarne had 
been merely impatient and annoyed when he set out; but the 
longer he rode, and the more he communed with himself, the 
deeper grew his sense of the personal injury that had been done 
him by this act of folly. 

It was a very lonely ride indeed. There was not a human being 
abroad at that hour. When he passed a few cottages from time 
to time the windows were dark. Then they had just been put- 
19 


290 


THREE FEATHERS. 


ting down a lot of loose stones at several parts of the road, which 
caused Mr. Rosewarne to swear. 

“ I’ll bet a sovereign,” said he to himself, “ that old Job kept 
them a quarter of an hour before he opened Paddock’s Gate. I 
believe the old fool goes to bed. Well, they’ve waked him up for 
me, anyway.” 

There was some consolation in this surmise, which was well 
founded. When Rosewarne reached the toll-bar, there was at 
least a light in the small house. He struck on the door with 
the handle of his riding-whip, and called out — 

“ Hi, hi ! Job ! Come out, you old fool !” 

An old man, with very bandy legs, came hobbling out of the 
toll-house, and went to open the gate, talking and muttering to 
himself — 

“ Ay, ay ! so yii be agwoin’ after the young uns, Maister Rose- 
warne ? Ay, ay ! yii’ll go up many a lane, and by many a fuzzy 
’ill, and acrass a bridge or two afore yii come up wi’ ’en, Maister 
Rosewarne.” 

“ Look sharp, Job !” said Rosewarne. “ Carriage been through 
here lately ?” 

“ Ay, ay, Maister Rosewarne ! ’tis a good half-hour agone.” 

“ A half-hour, you idiot ?” said Rosewarne, now in a thoroughly 
bad temper. “ You’ve been asleep and dreaming. Here, take 
your confounded money !” 

So he rode on again, not believing, of course, old Job’s mali- 
cious fabrication, but being rendered all the same a little uncom- 
fortable by it. Fortunately, the cob had not been out before 
that day. 

More deep lanes, more high, open, windy spaces, more silent 
cottages, more rough stones ; and always the measured fall of the 
cob’s feet and the continued shining and throbbing of the stars 
overhead. At last, far away ahead, on the top of a high incline, 
he caught sight of a solitary point of ruddy fire, which presently 
disappeared. That, he concluded, was the carriage he was pursu- 
ing going around a corner, and showing only the one lamp as it 
turned. They were not so far in front of him as he had sup- 
posed. 

But how to overtake them ? So soon as they heard the sound 
of his horse would they dash onward at all risks, and have a race 
for it all through the night ? In that case, George Rosewarne in- 


INTO CAPTIVITY. 


291 


wardly resolved that they might go to Plymouth, or into the deep 
sea beyond, before he would injure his favorite cob. 

On the other hand, he could not bring them to a stand-still by 
threatening to shoot at his own daughters, even if he had had any- 
thing with him that would look like a pistol. Should he have to 
rely then on the moral terrors of a parent’s authority ? George 
Rosewarne was inclined to laugh when he thought of his over- 
awing in this fashion the high spirit of his younger daughter. 

By slow and sure degrees he gained on the fugitives; and as 
he could now catch some sound of the rattling of the carriage- 
wheels, they must also hear his horse’s footfall. Were they try- 
ing to get away from him ? On the contrary, the carriage stopped 
altogether. 

That was Harry Trelyon’s decision. For some time back he 
had been listening attentively. At length he said — 

“ Don’t you hear some one riding back there ?” 

“ Yes, I do !” said Wenna, beginning to tremble. 

“ I suppose it is Mr. Roscorla coming after us,” the young man 
said coolly. “ Now I think it would be a shame to drag the old 
gentleman half-way down to Plymouth. He must have had a 
good spell already. Shall I stop, and persuade him to go back 
home to bed ?” 

“ Oh no !” said Mabyn, who was all for getting on at any risk. 

“Oh no!” Wenna said, fearing the result of an encounter be- 
tween the two men. 

“ I must stop,” Trelyon said. “ It’s such precious hard lines 
on him. I shall easily persuade him that he would be better at 
home.” 

So he pulled up the horses, and quietly waited by the road- 
side for a few minutes. The unknown rider drew nearer and 
more near. 

“ That isn’t Roscorla’s pony,” said Trelyon, listening. “ That’s 
more like your father’s cob.” 

“ My father!” said Wenna in a low voice. 

“My darling, you needn’t be afraid, whoever it is,” Trelyon 
said. 

“ Certainly not,” added Mabyn, who was far more uncomfort- 
able than she chose to appear. “ Who can prevent us going on ? 
They don’t lock you up in convents nowadays. If it is Mr. Ros- 
corla, you just let me talk to him.” 


292 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Their doubt on that head was soon set at rest. White Charley, 
with his long swinging trot, soon brought George Rosewarne up 
to the side of the phaeton, and the girls, long ere he had arrived, 
had recognized in the gloom the tall figure of their father. Even 
Mabyn was a trifle nervous. 

But George Rosewarne — perhaps because he was a little paci- 
fied by their having stopped — did not rage and fume as a father 
is expected to do whose daughter has run away from him. As 
soon as he had pulled up his horse, he called out in a petulant 
tone — 

“ Well ! what the devil is all this about ?” 

“ I’ll tell you, sir,” said Trelyon, quite respectfully and quite 
firmly. “ I wished to marry your daughter Wenna — ” 

“ And why couldn’t you do that in Eglosilyan, instead of mak- 
ing a fool of everybody all around ?” Rosewarne said, still talking 
in an angry and vexed way, as of one who had been personally 
injured. 

“ Oh, dada !” Mabyn cried, “ you don’t know how it happened ; 
but they couldn’t have got married there. There’s that horrid 
old wretch, Mr. Roscorla — and Wenna was quite a slave to him, 
and afraid of him — and the only way was to carry her away from 
him — and so — ” 

“Hold your tongue, Mabyn!” her father said. “You’d drive 
a windmill with your talk !” 

“ But what she says is true enough,” Trelyon said. “ Roscorla 
has a claim on her — this was my only chance, and I took it. Now 
look here, Mr. Rosewarne ; you’ve a right to be angry and all that 
— perhaps you are ; but what good will it do you to see Wenna 
left to marry Roscorla ?” 

“ What good will it do me ?” said George Rosewarne pettishly. 
“ I don’t care which of you she marries — ” 

“ Then you’ll let us go on, dada ?” Mabyn cried. “ Will you 
come with us? Oh, do come with us! We’re only going to 
Plymouth.” 

Even the angry father could not withstand the absurdity of 
this appeal. He burst into a roar of ill-tempered laughter. 

“ I like that !” he cried. “ Asking a man to help his daugh- 
ter to run away from his own house ! It’s my impression, my 
young mistress, that you’re at the bottom of all this nonsense. 
Come, come ! enough of it, Trelyon ! be a sensible fellow, and 


INTO CAPTIVITY. 


293 


turn your horses round — why, the notion of going to Plymouth 
at this time o’ night !” 

Trelyon looked at his companion. She put her hand on his 
arm, and said, in a trembling whisper — 

“ Oh yes ! pray let us go hack.” 

“ You know what you are going to, then ?” said he coldly. She 
trembled still more. 

“Come, come!” said her father, “you mustn’t stop here all 
night. You may thank me for preventing your becoming the 
talk of the whole country.” 

“ I shouldn’t have minded that much,” Mabyn said ruefully, 
and very like to cry, indeed, as the horses set out upon their jour- 
ney back to Eglosilyan. 

It was not a pleasant journey for any of them — least of all for 
Wenna Rosewarne, who having been bewildered by one wild 
glimpse of liberty, felt with terror and infinite sadness and de- 
spair the old manacles closing around her life again. And what 
although the neighbors might remain in ignorance of what she 
had done ? She herself knew, and that was enough. 

“You think no one will know?” Mabyn called out spitefully 
to her father. “ Do you think old Job at the gate has lost either 
his tongue or his nasty temper ?” 

“ Leave Job to me,” the father replied. 

When they got to Paddock’s Gate the old man had again to 
be roused, and he came out grumbling. 

“ Well, you discontented old sinner !” Rosewarne called to him, 
“ don’t you like having to earn a living ?” 

“ A fine livin’ to wait on folks that don’t knaw their own mind, 
and keep cornin’ and goin’ along the road o’ nights like a weaver’s 
shuttle. Hm !” 

“ Well, Job, you sha’n’t suffer for it this time,” Rosewarne said. 
“ I’ve won my bet. If you made fifty pounds by riding a few 
miles out, what would you give the gatekeeper ?” 

Even that suggestion failed to inveigle Job into a better humor. 

“Here’s a sovereign for you, Job. Now go to bed. Good- 
night !” 

How long the distance seemed to be ere they saw the lights of 
Eglosilyan again ! There were only one or two small points of 
red fire, indeed, where the inn stood. The rest of the village was 
buried in darkness. 


294 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Oh ! what will mother say ?” Wenna said in a low voice to 
her sister. 

“ She will be very sorry we did not get away altogether,” 
Mabyn answered. “ And of course it was Mr. Roscorla who spoiled 
it. Nobody knew anything about it but himself. He must have 
run on to the inn and told some one. Wasn’t it mean, Wenna? 
Couldn’t he see that he wasn’t wanted ?” 

“ Are you talking of Mr. Roscorla ?” Trelyon said — George 
Rosewarne was a bit ahead at this moment. “ I wish to good- 
ness I had gagged him and slung him below the phaeton. I 
knew he would be coming down there. I expected him every 
moment. Why were you so late, Mabyn ?” 

“ Oh ! you needn’t blame me, Mr. Trelyon,” said Mabyn, rather 
hurt. “ You know I did everything I could for you.” 

“ I know you did, Mabyn : I wish it had turned out better.” 

What was this, then, that Wenna heard, as she sat there, be- 
wildered, apprehensive, and sad -hearted? Had her own sister 
joined in this league to carry her off ? It was not merely the au- 
dacity of young Trelyon that had led to their meeting ? But she 
was altogether too frightened and wretched to be angry. 

As they got down into Eglosilyan, and turned the sharp corner 
over the bridge, they did not notice the figure of a man who had 
been concealing himself in the darkness of a shed belonging to a 
slate-yard. So soon as they had passed he went some little way 
after them until, from the bridge, he could see them stop at the 
door of the inn. Was it Mrs. Rosewarne who came out of the 
glare, and with something like a cry of delight caught her daugh- 
ter in her arms ? He watched the figures go inside, and the phae- 
ton drive away up the hill ; then, in the perfect silence of the 
night, he turned and slowly made his way towards Basset Cottage. 


AN ANGRY INTERVIEW. 


295 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

AN ANGRY INTERVIEW. 

Next morning George Rosewarne was seated on the old oak 
bench in front of the ,inn, reading a newspaper. Happening to 
look up, he saw Mr. Roscorla hurrying towards him over the bridge, 
with no very pleasant expression on his face. As he came nearer, 
he saw that the man was strangely excited. 

“ I want to see your daughter alone,” he said. 

“You needn’t speak as if I had tried to run away with her,” 
Rosewarne answered, with more good-nature than was his wont. 
“ Well, go indoors. Ask for her mother.” 

As Roscorla passed him there was a look in his eyes which 
rather startled George Rosewarne. 

“ Is it possible,” he asked himself, “ that this elderly chap is 
really badly in love with our Wenna?” 

But another thought struck him. He suddenly jumped up, 
followed Roscorla into the passage, where the latter was standing, 
and said to him — 

“ Don’t you be too harsh with Wenna. She’s only a girl ; and 
they’re all alike.” This hint, however discourteous in its terms, 
had some significance as coming from a man who was six inches 
taller than Mr. Roscorla. 

Mr. Roscorla was shown into an empty room. He marched up 
and down looking at nothing. He was simply in an ungovern- 
able rage. 

Wenna came, and shut the door behind her ; and for a second 
or so he stared at her as if expecting her to burst into passionate 
professions of remorse. On the contrary, there was something 
more than calmness in her appearance — there was the desperation 
of a hunted animal that is driven to turn upon its pursuer in the 
mere agony of helplessness. 

“ Well !” said he — for, indeed, his passion almost deprived him 
of his power of speech — “ what have you to say ? Perhaps noth- 
ing. It is nothing, perhaps, to a woman to be treacherous — to 


296 


THREE FEATHERS. 


tell smooth lies to your face, and to go plotting against you behind 
your back ? You have nothing to say ? You have nothing to say ?” 

“I have nothing to say,” she said, with some little sadness in 
her voice, “ that would excuse me, either to you or myself — yes ! 
I know that. But — but I did not intentionally deceive you — ” 

He turned away with an angry gesture. 

“ Indeed, indeed I did not,” she said piteously. “ I had mista- 
ken my own feelings — the temptation was too great. Oh, Mr. 
Roscorla ! you need not say harsh things of me, for indeed I think 
worse of myself than you can do.” * 

“ And I suppose you want forgiveness now ?” he added bitterly. 
“ But I have had enough of that. A woman pledges you her af- 
fection, promises to marry you, professes to have no doubts as to 
the future; and all the while she is ’secretly encouraging the atten- 
tions of a young jackanapes who is playing with her and making 
a fool of her — ” 

Wenna Rosewarne’s cheeks began to burn red : a less angry 
man would have taken warning. 

“Yes — playing with her and making a fool of her. And for 
what? To pass an idle time, and make her the byword of her 
neighbors.” 

“ It is not true ! it is not true I” she said indignantly ; and there 
was a dangerous light in her eyes. “If he were here, you would 
not dare to say such things to me — no, you would not dare !” 

“ Perhaps you expect him to call after the pretty exploit of last 
night ?” asked Roscorla, with a sneer. 

“ I do not,” she said. “ I hope I shall never see him again. It 
is — it is only misery to every one — ” 

And here she broke down, in spite of herself. Her anger gave 
way to a burst of tears. 

“But what madness is this?” Roscorla cried. “You wish never 
to meet him again ; yet you are ready at a moment’s notice to run 
away with him, disgracing yourself and your family. You make 
promises about never seeing him ; you break them the instant you 
get the opportunity. You profess that your girlish fancy for a 
barber’s block of a fellow has been got over ; and then, as soon as 
one’s back is turned, you reveal your hypocrisy — ” 

“ Indeed I did not mean to deceive you,” she said, imploringly. 
“ I did believe that all that was over and gone. I thought it was 
a foolish fancy — ” 


AN ANGRY INTERVIEW. 


297 


“ And now ?” said he, hotly. 

“ Oh, Mr. Roscorla, you ought to pity me instead of being angry 
with me. I do love him — I cannot help it. You will not ask me 
to marry you ! See, I will undertake not to marry him — I will 
undertake never to see him again — if only you will not ask me to 
keep my promise to you. How can I ? How can I ?” 

“ Pity you ! and these are the confessions you make !” he ex- 
claimed. “ Why, are you not ashamed of yourself to say such 
things to me ? And so you would undertake not to marry him ? 
I know what your undertakings are worth !” 

He had struck her hard — his very hardest, indeed; but she 
would not suffer herself to reply, for she believed she deserved far 
more punishment than he could inflict. All that she could hope 
for — all that her whole nature cried out for — was that he should 
not think her treacherous. She had not intentionally deceived 
him. She had not planned that effort at escape. But when, in 
a hurried and pathetic fashion, she endeavored to explain all this 
to him, he would not listen. He angrily told her he knew well 
how women could gloss over such matters. He was no school-boy 
to be hoodwinked. It was not as if she had had no warning; her 
conduct before had been bad enough, when it was possible to over- 
look it on the score of carelessness, but now it was such as would 
disgrace any woman who knew her honor was concerned in hold- 
ing to the word she had spoken. 

“And what is he?” he cried, mad with wrath and jealousy. 
“ An ignorant booby ! a ploughboy ! a lout who has neither the 
manners of a gentleman nor the education of a day-laborer — ” 

“ Y es, you may well say such things of him now,” said she, with 
her eyes flashing, “ when his back is turned. You would not say so 
if he were here. But he — yes, if he were here — he would tell you 
what he thinks of you ; for he is a gentleman and not a coward.” 

Angry as he was, Mr. Roscorla was astounded. The fire in her 
eyes, the flush in her cheeks, the impetuosity of her voice — were 
these the patient Wenna of old? But a girl betrays herself some- 
times, if she happens to have to defend her lover. 

“ Oh ! it is shameful of you to say such things !” she said. “ And 
you know they are not true. There is not any one 1 have ever 
seen who is so manly and frank and unselfish as Mr. Trelyon — 
not any one; and if I have seen that — if I have admired too much 
— well, that is a great misfortune, and I have to suffer for it.” 


298 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ To suffer ? — yes,” said he, bitterly. “ That is a pretty form 
of suffering that makes you plan a runaway marriage — a marriage 
that would bring into your possession the largest estates in the 
north of Cornwall. A very pretty form of suffering ! May I ask 
when the experiment is to be repeated ?” 

“You may insult me as you like — I am only a woman,” she said. 

“ Insult you ?” he cried, with fresh vehemence. “ Is it insult 
to speak the truth? Yesterday forenoon, when I saw you, you 
were all smiles and smoothness. When I spoke of our marriage, 
vou made no objection. But all the same you knew that at 
night — ” 

“ I did not know — I did not know !” she said. “ You ought 
to believe me when I tell you I knew no more about it than you 
did. When I met him there at night — it was all so sudden, so un- 
expected — I scarcely knew what I said ; but now — but now I have 
time to think — Oh, Mr. Roscorla, don’t think that I do not regret 
it! I will do anything you ask me — I will promise what you 
please — indeed, I will undertake never to see him again as long as 
I live in this world — only, you won’t ask me to keep my promise 
to you — ” 

He made no reply to this offer; for a step outside the door 
caused him to mutter something very like an oath between his 
teeth. The door was thrown open, Mabyn marched in — a little 
pale, but very erect. 

“ Mabyn, leave us alone for a moment or two,” said Wenna, 
turning away so as to hide the tears on her face. 

“ I will not. I want to speak a word or two to Mr. Roscorla.” 

“ Mabyn, I want you to go away just now.” 

Mabyn went over to her sister, and took her by the hand. 

“ Wenna, dear, go away to your own room. You*ve had quite 
enough — you are trembling all over. I suppose he’ll make me 
tremble next.” 

“ Really, I think your interference is rather extraordinary, Miss 
Mabyn,” said Mr. Roscorla, striving to contain his rage. 

“ I beg your pardon,” said Mabyn meekly. “ I only want to 
say a word or two. Wouldn’t it be better here than before the 
servants ?” 

With that she led Wenna away. In a minute or two she re- 
turned. Mr. Roscorla would rather have been shut up in a den 
with a hungry tigress. 


AN ANGRY INTERVIEW. 


299 


“ I am quite at your service,” he said with a bitter irony. “ I 
suppose you have some very important communication to make, 
considering the way in which you — ” 

“ Interfered ? Yes, it is time that I interfered,” Mabyn said, still 
quite calm and a trifle pale. “ Mr. Roscorla, to be frank, I don’t 
like you, and perhaps I am not quite fair to you. I am only a 
young girl, and don’t know what the world would say about your 
relations with Wenna. But Wenna is my sister, and I see she is 
wretched ; and her wretchedness — well, that comes of her engage- 
ment to you.” 

She was standing before him, with her eyes cast down, appar- 
ently determined to be very moderate in her speech. But there 
was a cruel frankness in her words which hurt Mr. Roscorla a good 
deal more than any tempest of passion into which she might have 
worked herself. 

“ Is that all?” said he. “You have not startled me with any 
revelations.” 

“ I was going to say,” continued Mabyn, “that a gentleman who 
has really a regard for a girl would not insist on her keeping a 
promise which only rendered her unhappy. I don’t see what you 
are to gain by it. I suppose you — you expect Wenna to marry 
you? Well, I dare say if you called on her to punish herself that 
way, she might do it. But what good would that do you ? Would 
you like to have a wife who was in love with another man ?” 

“You have become quite logical, Miss Mabyn,” said he, “and 
argument suits you better than getting into a rage. And much 
of what you say is quite true. You are a very young girl. You 
don’t know much of what the world would say about anything. 
But being furnished with these admirable convictions, did it never 
occur to you that you might not be acting wisely in blundering 
into an affair of which you know nothing ?” 

The coldly sarcastic fashion in which he spoke threatened to 
disturb Mabyn’s forced equanimity. 

“Know nothing?” she said. “I know everything about it; 
and I can see that my sister is miserable — that is sufficient rea- 
son for my interference. Mr. Roscorla, you won’t ask her to mar- 
ry you !” 

Had the proud and passionate Mabyn condescended to make 
an appeal to her ancient enemy ? At least she raised her eyes ; 
and they seemed to plead for mercy. 


300 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ Come, come !” he said, roughly, “ I’ve had enough of all this 
sham beseeching ; I know what it means. Trelyon is a richer man 
than I am ; she has let her idle girlish notions go dreaming day- 
dreams ; and so I am expected to stand aside. There has been 
enough of this nonsense. She is not a child; she knows what 
she undertook of her own free will ; and she knows she can get 
rid of this school-girl fancy directly if she chooses. I for one 
won’t help her to disgrace herself.” 

Mabyn began to breathe a little more quickly. She had tried 
to be reasonable ; she had even humbled herself and begged from 
him ; now there w*as a sensation in her chest as of some rising 
emotion that demanded expression in quick words. 

“You will try to make her marry you?” said she, looking him 
in the face. 

“ I will try to do nothing of the sort,” said he. “ She can do 
as she likes. But she knows what an honorable woman would 
do.” 

“And I,” said Mabyn, her temper at length quite getting the 
better of her, “ I know what an honorable man would do. He 
would refuse to bind a girl to a promise which she fears. He 
would consider her happiness to be of more importance than his 
comfort. Why, I don’t believe you care at all whether Wenna 
marries you or not — it is only you can’t bear her being married 
to the man she really does love — it is only envy, that’s what it is. 
Oh ! I am ashamed to think there is a man alive who would force 
a girl into becoming his wife on such terms — ” 

“ There is certainly one considerable objection to my marrying 
your sister,” said he, with great politeness. “ The manners of 
some of her relatives might prove embarrassing.” 

“Yes, that is true enough,” Mabyn said, with hot cheeks. “ If 
ever I became a relative of yours, my manners no doubt would 
embarrass you very considerably. But I am not a relative of 
yours as yet, nor is my sister.” 

“ May I consider that you have said what you had to say ?” said 
he, taking up his hat. 

Proud and angry, and at the same time mortified by her defeat, 
Mabyn found herself speechless. He did not offer to shake hands 
with her. He bowed to her in passing out. She made the least 
possible acknowledgment, and then she was alone. Of course, a 
hearty cry followed. She felt she had done no good. She had 


THE OLD HALF-FORGOTTEN JOKE. 


301 


determined to be calm ; whereas all the calmness had been on his 
side, and she had been led into speaking in a manner which a dis- 
creet and well-bred young lady would have shrunk from in horror. 
Mabyn sat still and sobbed, partly in anger and partly in disap- 
pointment ; she dared not even go to tell her sister. 

But Mr. Roscorla, as he went over the bridge again, and went 
up to Basset Cottage, had lost all his assumed coolness of judg- 
ment and demeanor. He felt he had been tricked by Wenna and 
insulted by Mabyn, while his rival had established a hold which it 
would be in vain for him to seek to remove. He was in a pas- 
sion of rage. He would not go near Wenna again. He would 
at once set off for London and enjoy himself there while his holi- 
day lasted ; he would not write a word to her ; then, when the 
time arrived, he would set sail for Jamaica, leaving her to her own 
conscience. He was suffering a good deal from anger, envy, and 
jealousy ; but he was consoled by the thought that she was suffer- 
ing more. And he reflected, with some comfort to himself, that 
she would scarcely so far demean herself as to marry Harry Tre- 
lyon, so long as she knew in her heart what he, Roscorla, would 
think of her for so doing. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

THE OLD HALF-FORGOTTEN JOKE. 

“ Has he gone?” Wenna asked of her sister, the next day. 

“ Yes, he has,” Mabyn answered, with a proud and revengeful 
face. “ It was quite true what Mrs. Cornish told me— I’ve no 
doubt she had her instructions. He has just driven away to 
Launceston, on his way to London.” 

“ Without a word !” 

“ Would you like to have had another string of arguments ?” 
Mabyn said, impatiently. “ Oh, Wenna, you don’t know what 
mischief all this is doing. You are awake all night ; you cry 
half the day ; what is to be the end of it ? You will work your- 
self into a fever.” 

“ Yes, there must be an end of it,” Wenna said, with decision, 
“ not for myself alone, but for others. That is all the reparation 


302 


THREE FEATHERS. 


I can make now. No girl in all this country has ever acted so 
badly as I have done — just look at the misery I have caused — 
but now — ” 

“ There is one who is miserable, because he loves you,” Mabyn 
said. 

“ Do you think that Mr. Roscorla has no feelings ? You are so 
unjust to him. Well, it does not matter now : all this must come 
to an end. Mabyn, I should like to see Mr. Trelyon, just for one 
minute.” 

“What will you say to him,Wenna?” her sister said, with a 
sudden fear. 

“ Something that it is necessary to say to him, and the sooner 
<t is over the better.” 

Mabyn rather dreaded the result of this interview; and yet, 
she reflected to herself, here was an opportunity for Harry Tre- 
lyon to try to win some promise from her sister. Better, in 
any case, that they should meet than that Wenna should sim- 
ply drive him away into banishment without a word of expla- 
nation. 

The meeting was easily arranged. On the next morning, long 
before Wenna’s daily round of duties had commenced, the two 
sisters left the inn, and went over the bridge, and out to the bold 
promontory of black rock at the mouth of the harbor. There 
was nobody about. This October morning was more like a sum- 
mer-day ; the air was mild and still ; the blue sky without a 
cloud; the shining sea plashed around the rocks with the soft 
murmuring noise of a July calm. It was on these rocks, long 
ago, that Wenna Rosewarne had pledged herself to become the 
wife of Mr. Roscorla ; and at that time life had seemed to her, if 
not brilliant and beautiful, at least grateful and peaceful. Now 
all the peace had gone out of it. 

“ Oh, my darling !” Trelyon said, as she advanced alone towards 
him — for Mabyn had withdrawn. “ It is so good of you to come. 
Wenna, what has frightened you?” 

He had seized both her hands in his ; but she took them away 
again. For one brief second her eyes had met his, and there was 
a sort of wistful and despairing kindliness in them ; then she 
stood before him, with her face turned away from him, and her 
voice low and tremulous. 

“ I did wish to see you — for once — for the last time,” she said. 


THE OLD HALF-FORGOTTEN JOKE. 


303 


If you had gone away, you would have carried with you cruel 
thoughts of me. I wish to ask your forgiveness — ” 

“ My forgiveness ?” 

“ Yes, for all that you may have suffered ; and — for all that ' 
may trouble you in the future — not in the future, but for the little 
time you will remember what has taken place here. Mr. Trelyon, 

I — I did not know ! Indeed, it is all a mystery to me now — and 
a great misery — ” 

Her lips began to quiver ; but she controlled herself. 

“ And surely it will only be for a short time, if you think of it 
at all. You are young — you have all the world before you. When 
you go away among other people and see all the different things 
that interest a young man, you will soon forget whatever has hap- 
pened here.” 

“ And you say that to me,” he said, “ and you said the other 
night that you loved me. It is nothing, then, for people who love 
each other to go away, and be consoled, and never see each other 
again ?” 

Again the lips quivered : he had no idea of the terrible effort 
that was needed to keep this girl calm. 

“ I did say that — ” she said. 

“ And it was true ?” he broke in. 

“ It was true then — it is true now — that is all the misery of it !” 
she exclaimed, with tears starting to her eyes. 

“And you talk of our being separated forever!” he cried. 

“ No ! — not if I can help it ! Mabyn has told me of all your 
scruples — they are not worth looking at. I tell you you are no 
more bound to that man than Mabyn is; and that isn’t much. 
If he is such a mean hound as to insist on your marrying him, 
then I will appeal to your father and mother, and they must pre- 
vent him. Or I will go to him myself, and settle the matter in a 
shorter way — ” 

“ You cannot now,” she said ; “ he has gone away. And what 
good would that have done? I would never marry any man un- 
less I could do so with a clear and happy conscience ; and if you 
— if you and Mabyn — see nothing in my treatment of him that 
is wrong, then that is very strange ; but I cannot acquit myself. 
No ; I hope no woman will ever treat you as I have treated him. 
Look at his position — an elderly man, with few friends — he has 
not all the best of his life before him as you have — or the good 


304 


THREE FEATHERS. 


spirits of youth — and after he had gone away to Jamaica, taking 
my promise with him — oh ! I am ashamed of myself when I 
think on all that has happened.” 

“ Then you’ve no right to be,” said he, hotly. “ It was the 
most natural thing in the world, and he ought to have known it, 
that a young girl who has been argued into engaging herself to 
an old man should consider her being in love with another man 
as something of rather more importance — of a good deal more 
importance, I should say. And his suffering? He suffers no 
more than this lump of rock does. That is not his way of think- 
ing — to be bothered about anything. He may be angry, yes ! — 
and vexed for the moment, as is natural ; but if you think he is 
going about the world with a load of agony on him, then you’re 
quite mistaken. And if he were, what good could you do by 
making yourself miserable as well? Wenna, do be reasonable, 
now.” 

Had not another, on this very spot, prayed her to be reason- 
able ? She had yielded then. Mr. Roscorla’s arguments were in- 
controvertible, and she had shrinkingly accepted the conclusion. 
Now, young Trelyon’s representations and pleadings were far less 
cogent ; but how strongly her heart went with them ! 

“ No !” she said, as if she were shaking off the influence of the 
tempter, “ I must not listen to you. Yet you don’t seem to think 
that it costs me anything to ask you to bid me good-bye once 
and for all. It should be less to you than to me. A girl thinks 
of these things more than a man — she has little else to think of 
— he goes out into the world and forgets. And you — you will 
go away, and you will become such a man as all who know you 
will love to speak of and be proud of ; and some day you will 
come back, and if you like to come down to the inn, then there 
will be one or two there glad to see you. Mr. Trelyon, don’t ask 
me to tell you why this should be so. I know it to be right; my 
heart tells me. Now I will say good-bye to you.” 

“ And when I come back to the inn, will you be there ?” said 
he, becoming rather pale. “ No ; you will be married to a man 
whom you will hate.” 

“ Indeed no,” she said, with her face flushing and her eyes cast 
down. “ How can that be after what has taken place ? He could 
not ask me. All that I begged of him before he went away was 
this — that he would not ask me to marry him; and if only he 


THE OLD HALF-FORGOTTEN JOKE. 


305 


would do that, I promised never to see you again — after bidding 
you good-bye as I do now.” 

“ And is that the arrangement?” said he, rather roughly. “Are 
we to play at dog in the manger? He is not to marry you him- 
self ; but he will not let any other man marry you ?” 

“ Surely he has some right to consideration,” she said. 

“ Well, Wenna,” said he, “if you’ve made up your mind, there’s 
no more to be said. I think you are needlessly cruel — ” 

“ You won’t say that, just as we are parting,” she said, in a low 
voice. “Do you think it is nothing to me?” 

He looked at her for a moment with a great sadness and com- 
punction in his eyes ; then, moved by an uncontrollable impulse, 
he caught her in his arms, and kissed her on the lips. 

“ Now,” said he, with his face white as death, “ tell me that you 
will never marry any other man as long as you live !” 

“ Yes, I will say that,” she said to him, in a low voice, and with 
a face as white as his own. 

“ Swear it, then !” 

“ I have said that I will never marry any other man than you,” 
she said, “ and that is enough — for me. But as for you — why 
must you go away thinking of such things? You will see some 
day what madness it would have been — you will come some day 
and thank me for having told you so — and then — and then — if 
anything should be mentioned about what I said just now, you 
will laugh at the old half-forgotten joke — ” 

Well, there was no laughing at the joke just then ; for the girl 
burst into tears, and in the midst of that she hastily pressed his 
hand and hurried away. He watched her go around the rocks to 
the cleft leading down to the harbor. There she was rejoined by 
her sister; and the two of them went slowly along the path of 
broken slate, with the green hill above, the blue water below, and 
the fair sunshine all around them. Many a time he recalled after- 
wards — and always with an increasing weight at his heart — how 
sombre seemed to him that bright October day, and the pictur- 
esque opening of the coast leading into Eglosilyan. For it was 
the last glimpse of Wenna Rosewarne that he was to have for 
many a day ; and a sadder picture was never treasured up in a 
man’s memory. 

“ Oh, Wenna, what have you said to him that you tremble so ?” 
Mabyn asked. 


306 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ I have bid him good-bye — that is all.” 

“ Not for always ?” 

“ Yes, for always.” 

“ And be is going away again, then ?” 

“Yes, as a young man should. Why should he stop here to 
make himself wretched over impossible fancies ? He will go out 
into the world ; and he has splendid health and spirits ; and he 
will forget all this.” 

“ And you — you are anxious to forget it all too ?” 

“ Would it not be better? What good can come of dreaming? 
Well, I’ve plenty of work to do ; that is well.” 

Mabyn was very much inclined to cry : all her beautiful visions 
of the future happiness of her sister had been rudely dispelled. 
All her schemes and machinations had gone for nothing. There 
only remained to her, in the way of consolation, the fact that 
Wenna still wore the sapphire ring that Harry Trelyon had sent 
her. 

“And what will his mother think of you ?” said Mabyn, as a last 
argument, “ when she finds you have sent him away altogether — 
to go into the army, and go abroad, and perhaps die of yellow- 
fever, or be shot by the Sepoys and the Caffres ?” 

“ She would have hated me if I had married him,” said Wenna, 
simply. 

“ Oh, Wenna, how dare you say such a thing !” Mabyn cried. 
“ What do you mean by it ?” 

“Would a lady in her position like her only son to marry the 
daughter of an innkeeper?” Wenna asked, rather indifferently: 
indeed, her thoughts were elsewhere. 

“ I tell you, there’s no one in the world she loves like you — I 
can see it every time she comes down for you — and she believes, 
and I believe too, that you have changed Mr. Trelyon’s way of 
talking and his manner of treating people in such a fashion as no 
one would have considered possible. Do you think she hasn’t 
eyes ? He is scarcely ever impertinent now — when he is it is al- 
ways in good-nature, and never in sulkiness. Look at his kind- 
ness to Mr. Trewhella’s granddaughter ; and Mr. Trewhella a cler- 
gyman too. Did he ever use to take his mother out for a drive ? 
No, never ! And of course she knows whom it’s all owing to ; 
and if you would marry Mr. Trelyon, Wenna, I believe she would 
worship you and think nothing good enough for you — ” 


NEW AMBITIONS. 


307 


“ Mabyn, I am going to ask something of you.” 

“ Oh yes, I know what it is,” her sister said. “ I am not to 
speak any more about your marriage with Mr. Trelyon. But I 
won’t give you any such promise, Wenna. I don’t consider that 
that old man has any hold on you.” 

Wenna said nothing, for at this moment they entered the 
house. Mabyn went up with her sister to her room ; then she 
stood undecided for a moment ; finally she said — 

“ Wenna, if I’ve vexed you, I’m very sorry. I won’t speak of 
Mr. Trelyon if you don’t wish it. But indeed you don’t know 
how many people are anxious that you should be happy — and you 
can’t expect your own sister not to be as anxious as any one 
else — ” 

“ Mabyn, you’re a good girl,” Wenna said, kissing her. “ But 
I am rather tired to-day — I think I shall lie down for a little 
while — ” 

Mabyn uttered a sharp cry, for her sister had fallen back on a 
chair, white and insensible. She hastily bathed her forehead with 
cold water ; she chafed her hands ; she got hold of some smelling- 
salts. It was only a faint, after all ; and Wenna, having come to, 
said she would lie down on the sofa for a few minutes. Mabyn 
said nothing to her mother about all this, for it would have driven 
Mrs. Rosewarne wild with anxiety ; but she herself was rather dis- 
quieted with Wenna’s appearance, and she said to herself, with 
great bitterness of heart — 

“ If my sister falls ill, I know who has done that.” 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

NEW AMBITIONS. 

Mr. Roscorla, having had few friends throughout his life, had 
developed a most methodical habit of communing with himself 
on all possible subjects, but more particularly, of course, upon his 
own affairs. He used up his idle hours in defining his position 
with regard to the people and things around him, and he was 
never afraid to convince himself of the exact truth. He never 
tried to cheat himself into the belief that he was more unselfish 


308 


THREE FEATHERS. 


than might appear; if other people thought so, good and well. 
He, at least, was not a hypocrite to himself. 

Now he had not been gone above a couple of hours or so from 
Eglosilyan when he discovered that he was not weighted with ter- 
rible woes ; on the contrary, he experienced a feeling of austere 
satisfaction that he was leaving a good deal of trouble behind him. 
He had been badly used ; he had been righteously angry. It was 
^ight that they who had thus used him badly should be punished. 
As for him, if his grief did not trouble him much, that was a 
happy peculiarity of his temperament which did not lessen their 
offence against him. 

Most certainly he was not weighted with woe. He had a pleas- 
ant drive in the morning over to Launceston ; he smoked a cigar- 
ette or two in the train. When he arrived at Plymouth, he or- 
dered a very nice luncheon at the nearest hotel, and treated him- 
self to a bottle of the best Burgundy the waiter could recommend 
him. After that he got into a smoking-carriage in the London 
express ; he lit a large cigar ; he wrapped a thick rug around his 
legs, and settled himself down in peace for the long journey. 
Now was an excellent time to find out exactly how his affairs stood. 

He was indeed very comfortable. Leaving Eglosilyan had not 
troubled him. There was something in the knowledge that he 
was at last free from all those exciting scenes which a quiet 
middle-aged man, not believing in romance, found trying to his 
nervous system. This brief holiday in Eglosilyan had been any- 
thing but a pleasant one ; was he not, on the whole, glad to get 
away? 

Then he recollected that the long-expected meeting with his 
betrothed had not been so full of delight as he had anticipated. 
Was there not just a trace of disappointment in the first shock 
of feeling at their meeting? She was certainly not a handsome 
woman — such a one as he might have preferred to introduce to 
his friends about Kensington, in the event of his going back to 
live in London. 

Then he thought of old General Weekes. He felt a little 
ashamed of himself for not having had the courage to tell the 
General and his wife that he meant to marry one of the young 
ladies who had interested them. Would it not be awkward, too, 
to have to introduce Wenna Rosewarne to them in her new ca- 
pacity ? 


NEW AMBITIONS. 


309 


That speculation carried him on to the question of his marriage. 
There could be no doubt that his betrothed had become a little 
too fond of the handsomest young man in the neighborhood. 
Perhaps that was natural; but at all events she was now very 
much ashamed of what had happened, and he might trust her to 
avoid Harry Trelyon in the future. That having been secured, 
would not her thoughts naturally drift back to the man to whom 
she had plighted a troth which was still formally binding on her ? 
Time was on his side. She would forget that young man ; she 
would be anxious, as soon as these temporary disturbances of her 
affections were over, to atone for the past by her conduct in the 
future. Girls had very strong notions about duty. 

Well, he drove to his club, and finding one of the bedrooms 
free, he engaged it for a week, the longest time possible. He 
washed, dressed, and went down to dinner. To his great delight, 
the first man he saw was old Sir Percy himself, who was writing 
out a very elaborate menu , considering that he was ordering din- 
ner for himself only. He and Mr. Roscorla agreed to dine to- 
gether. 

Now for some years back Mr. Roscorla, in visiting his club, 
had found himself in a very isolated and uncomfortable position. 
Long ago he had belonged to the younger set — to those reckless 
young fellows who were not afraid to eat a hasty dinner, and then 
rush off to take a mother and a couple of daughters to the theatre, 
returning at midnight to some anchovy toast and a glass of Bur- 
gundy, followed by a couple of hours of brandy-and-soda, cigars, 
and billiards. But he had drifted away from that set; indeed, 
they had disappeared, and he knew none of their successors. On 
the other hand, he had never got into the ways of the old-fogy 
set. Those stout old gentlemen, who carefully drank nothing but 
claret-and-seltzer, who took a quarter of an hour to write out their 
dinner bill, who spent the evening in playing whist, kept very 
much to themselves. It was into this set that the old General 
now introduced him. Mr. Roscorla had quite the air of a bashful 
young man when he made one of a party of those ancients, who 
dined at the same table each evening. He was almost ashamed 
to order a pint of champagne for himself — it savored so much of 
youth. He was silent in the presence of his seniors ; and indeed 
they were garrulous enough to cover his silence. Their talk was 
mostly of politics — not the politics of the country, but the politics 


310 


THREE FEATHERS. 


of office — of under - secretaries and candidates for place. They 
seemed to look on the Government of the country as a sort of 
mechanical clock, which from time to time sent out a few small 
figures, and from time to time took them in again; and they 
showed an astonishing acquaintance with the internal and intri- 
cate mechanism which produced these changes. Perhaps it was 
because they were so busy in watching for changes on the face of 
the clock that they seemed to forget the swinging onward of the 
great world outside, and the solemn march of the stars. 

Most of those old gentlemen had lived their life — had done 
their share of heavy dining and reckless drinking many years ago 
— and thus it was they had come to drink seltzer-and-claret. But 
it appeared that it was their custom, after dinner, to have the table- 
cover removed, and some port-wine placed on the mahogany. Mr. 
Roscorla, who had felt as yet no ugly sensations about his finger- 
joints, regarded this ceremony with equanimity ; but it was made 
the subject of some ominous joking on the part of his companions. 
Then joking led to joking. There were no more politics. Some 
very funny stories were told. Occasionally one or two names 
were introduced, as of persons well known in London society, 
though not of it ; and Mr. Roscorla was surprised that he had 
never heard these names before — you see how one becomes igno- 
rant of the world if one buries one’s self down in Cornwall. Mr. 
Roscorla began to take quite an interest in these celebrated peo- 
ple, in the price of their ponies, and the diamonds they were un- 
derstood to have worn at a certain very singular hall. He was 
pleased to hear, too, of the manner in which the aristocracy of 
England were resuming their ancient patronage of the arts ; for 
he was given to understand that a young earl or baron could 
scarcely be considered a man of fashion unless he owned a 
theatre. 

On their way up to the card-room, Mr. Roscorla and one of his 
venerable companions went into the hall to get their cigar-case 
from their top-coat pocket. This elderly gentleman had been the 
governor of an island in the Pacific. He had now been resident 
for many years in England. He was on the directorate of one or 
two well-known commercial companies ; he had spoken at several 
meetings on the danger of dissociating religion from education in 
the training of the young ; in short, he was a tower of respecta- 
bility. On the present occasion he had to pull out a muffler to 


NEW AMBITIONS. 


311 


get at his cigar-case ; and with the muffler came a small parcel 
tied up in tissue-paper. 

“Neat, aren’t they?” said he, with a senile grin, showing Mr. 
Roscorla the tips of a pair of pink satin slippers. 

“ Yes,” said Mr. Roscorla ; “ I suppose they’re for your daugh- 

They went up to the card-room. 

“ I expect you’ll teach us a lesson, Roscorla,” said the old Gen- 
eral. “Gad, some of you West Indian fellows know the differ- 
ence between a ten and an ace.” 

“ Last time I played cards,” Roscorla said, modestly, “ I was 
lucky enough to win forty-eight pounds.” 

“ Whew ! We can’t afford that sort of thing on this side of 
the water — not if you happen to serve Her Majesty, anyway. 
Come, let’s cut for partners.” 

There was but little talking, of course, during the card-playing ; 
at the end of it Mr. Roscorla found he had only lost half a sover- 
eign. Then everybody adjourned to a snug little smoking-room, 
to which only members were admitted. This, to the neophyte, 
was the pleasantest part of the evening. He seemed to hear of 
everything that was going on in London — and a good deal more 
besides. He was behind the scenes of all the commercial, social, 
political performances which were causing the vulgar crowd to 
gape. He discovered the true history of the hostility shown by 
So-and-so to the Premier; he was told the little scandal which 
caused Her Majesty to refuse to knight a certain gentleman who 
had claims on the Government; he heard what the Duke really 
did offer to the gamekeeper whose eye he had shot out, and the 
language used by the keeper on the occasion ; and he received 
such information about the financial affairs of many a company 
as made him wonder whether the final collapse of the commercial 
world were really at hand. He forgot that he had heard quite 
similar stories twenty years before. Then they had been told by 
ingenuous youths full of the importance of the information they 
had just acquired ; now they were told by garrulous old gentle- 
men, with a cynical laugh which was more amusing than the hot- 
headed asseveration of the juniors. It was, on the whole, a de- 
lightful evening — this first evening of his return to club-life ; and 
then it was so convenient to go up-stairs to bed instead of having 
to walk from the inn of Eglosilyan to Basset Cottage. 


312 


THREE FEATHERS. 


Just before leaving, the old General took Roscorla aside, and 
said to him — 

“ Monstrous amusing fellows, eh ?” 

“Very.” 

“Just a word. Don’t you let old Lewis lug you into any of 
his companies — you understand ?” 

“ There’s not much fear of that !” Mr. Roscorla said, with a 
laugh. “ I haven’t a brass farthing to invest.” 

“ All you West-Indians say that ; however, so much the better. 
And there’s old Strafford, too ; he’s got some infernal India-rubber 
patent. Gad, sir, he knows no more about these commercial fel- 
lows than the man in the moon ; and they’ll ruin him — mark my 
words, they’ll ruin him.” 

Roscorla was quite pleased to be advised. It made him feel 
young and ingenuous. After all, the disparity in years between 
him and his late companions was most obvious. 

“ And when are you coming to dine with us, eh ?” the General 
said, lighting a last cigar and getting his hat. To-morrow night ? 
— quiet family party, you know ; her ladyship’ll be awfully glad 
to see you. Is it a bargain ? All right — seven ; we’re early folks. 
I say — you needn’t mention I dined here to-night; to tell you 
the truth, I’m supposed to be looking after a company too, and 
precious busy about it. Mum’s the word; d’ye see?” 

Really this plunge into a new sort of life was quite delightful. 
When he went down to breakfast next morning he was charmed 
with the order and cleanliness of everything around him ; the 
sunlight was shining in at the large windows ; there was a bright 
fire, in front of which he stood and read the paper until his cut- 
lets came. There was no croaking of an old Cornish housekeeper 
over her bills ; no necessity for seeing if the grocer had been cor- 
rect in his addition. Then there was a slight difference between 
the cooking here and that which prevailed in Basset Cottage. 

In a comfortable frame of mind he leisurely walked down to 
Cannon Street, and announced himself to his partners. He sat 
for an hour or so in a snug little parlor, talking over their joint 
venture, and describing all that had been done. There was, in- 
deed, every ground for hope ; and he was pleased to hear them 
say that they were especially obliged to him for having gone out 
to verify the reports that had been sent home, and for his per- 
sonal supervision while there. They hoped he would draw on the 


NEW AMBITIONS. 


313 


joint association for a certain sum which should represent the 
value of that supervision. 

Now, if Mr. Roscorla had really been possessed at this moment 
of the wealth to which he looked forward, he would not have taken 
so much interest in it. He would have said to himself— 

u What is the life I am to lead, now that I have this money ? 
Having luncheon at the club ; walking in the Park in the after- 
noon ; dining with a friend in the evening, and playing whist or 
billiards, with the cheerless return to a bachelor’s chambers at 
night ? Is that all that my money can give me ?” 

But he had not the money. He looked forward to it ; and it 
seemed to him that it contained all the possibilities of happiness. 
Then he would be free. No more stationary dragging out of ex- 
istence in that Cornish cottage. He would move about ; he would 
enjoy life. He was still younger than those jovial old fellows 
who seemed to be happy enough. When he thought of Wenna 
Rosewarne, it was with the notion that marriage very considerably 
hampers a man’s freedom of action. 

If a man were married, could he have a choice of thirty dishes 
for luncheon? Could he have the first edition of the evening 
papers brought him almost damp from the press? Then how 
pleasant it was to be able to smoke a cigar and to write one or 
two letters at the same time — in a large and well-ventilated room. 
Mr. Roscorla did not fail to draw on his partners for the sum they 
had mentioned ; he was not short of money, but he might as well 
gather the first few drops of the coming shower. 

He did not go up to walk in the Park, for he knew there would 
be almost nobody there at that time of the year ; but he walked 
up to Bond Street and bought a pair of dress-boots, after which 
he returned to the club, and played billiards with one of his com- 
panions of the previous evening until it was time to dress for 
dinner. 

The party at the General’s was a sufficiently small one ; for you 
cannot ask any one to dinner at a few hours’ notice, except it be 
a merry and marriageable widow who has been told that she will 
meet an elderly and marriageable bachelor. This complaisant 
lady was present ; and Mr. Roscorla found himself on his entrance 
being introduced to a good-looking, buxom dame, who had a 
healthy, merry, roseate face, very black eyes and hair, and a some- 
what gorgeous dress. She was a trifle demure at first, but her 


314 


THREE FEATHERS. 


amiable shyness soon wore off, and she was most kind to Mr. Ros- 
corla. He, of course, had to take in Lady Weekes; but Mrs. 
Seton-Willoughby sat opposite him, and, while keeping the whole 
table amused with an account of her adventures in Galway, ap- 
peared to address the narrative principally to the stranger. 

“ Oh, my dear Lady Weekes,” she said, “ I was so glad to get 
back to Brighton ! I thought I should have forgotten my own 
language, and taken to war-paint and feathers, if I had remained 
much longer. And Brighton is so delightful just now — just com- 
fortably filled, without the November crush having set in. Now, 
couldn’t you persuade the General to take you down for a few 
days? I am going down on Friday ; and you know how dread- 
ful it is for a poor lone woman to be in a hotel, especially with 
a maid who spends all her time in flirting with the first-floor 

waiters. Now, won’t you, dear? I assure you the Hotel 

is most charming— such freedom, and the pleasant parties they 
make up in the drawing-room ; I believe they have a ball two or 
three nights a week just now — ” 

“ I should have thought you would have found the rather 

quieter,” said Mr. Roscorla, naming a good old-fashioned house. 

“ Rather quieter ?” said the widow, raising her eyebrows. “Yes, 
a good deal quieter ! About as quiet as a Dissenting chapel. No, 
no ; if one means to have a little pleasure, why go to such a place 
as that ? Now, will you come and prove the truth of what I have 
told you ?” 

Mr. Roscorla looked alarmed; and even the solemn Lady 
Weekes had to conceal a smile. 

“ Of course I mean you to persuade our friends here to come 
too,” the widow explained. “ What a delightful frolic it would 
be — for a few days, you know, to break away from London! 
Now, my dear, what do you say ?” 

She turned to her hostess. That small and sombre person re- 
ferred her to the General. The General, on being appealed to, 
said he thought it would be a capital joke ; and would Mr. Ros- 
corla go with them ? Mr. Roscorla, not seeing why he should not 
have a little frolic of this sort just like any one else, said he would. 
So they agreed to meet at Victoria Station on the following Fri- 
day. 

“ Struck, eh ?” said the old General, when the two gentlemen 
were alone after dinner. “ Has she wounded you, eh ? Gad, sir, 


NEW AMBITIONS. 


315 


that woman has £8000 a year in the India Four per Cents. 
Would you believe it? Would you believe that any man could 
have been such a fool as to put such a fortune into India Four per 
Cents ? — with mortgages going a-begging at five, and the marine 
insurance companies paying thirteen ! Well, my boy, what do 
you think of her ? She was most uncommonly attentive to you, 
that I’ll swear — don’t deny it — now, don’t deny it. Bless my 
soul, you marrying men are so sly there’s no getting at you. 
Well, what was I saying? Yes, yes — will she do? £8000 a 
year, as I’m a living sinner.” 

Mr. Roscorla was intensely flattered to have it even supposed 
that the refusal of such a fortune was within his power. 

“ Well,” said he, modestly and yet critically, “ she’s not quite 
my style. I’m rather afraid of three-deckers. But she seems a 
very good-natured sort of woman.” 

“ Good-natured ! Is that all you say ? I can tell you, in my 
time men were nothing so particular when there was £8000 a 
year going a-begging.” 

“Well, well,” said Mr. Roscorla, with a smile. “It is a very 
good joke. When she marries, she’ll marry a younger man than 
I am — ” 

“Don’t you be mistaken — don’t you be mistaken!” the old 
General cried. “You’ve made an impression — I’ll swear you 
have ; and I told her ladyship you would.” 

“And what did Lady Weekes say?” 

“ Gad, sir, she said it would be a deuced good thing for both 
of you.” 

“ She is very kind,” said Mr. Roscorla, pleased at the notion 
of having such a prize within reach, and yet not pleased that Lady 
Weekes should have fancied this the sort of woman he would 
care to marry. 

They went to Brighton, and a very pleasant time of it they had 
at the big, noisy hotel. The weather was delightful. Mrs. Seton- 
Willoughby was excessively fond of riding; forenoon and after- 
noon they had their excursions, with the pleasant little dinner of 
the evening to follow. Was not this a charmed land into which 
the former hermit of Basset Cottage was straying ? Of course, he 
never dreamed for a moment of marrying this widow ; that was 
out of the question. She was just a little too demonstrative — 
very clever and amusing for half an hour or so, but too gigantic 


316 


THREE FEATHERS. 


a blessing to be taken through life. It was the mere possibility 
of marrying her, however, which attracted Mr. Roscorla. He hon- 
estly believed, judging by her kindness to him, that, if he serious- 
ly tried, he could get her to marry him ; in other words, that he 
might become possessed of £8000 a year. This money, so to 
speak, was within his reach ; and it was only now that he was be- 
ginning to see that money could purchase many pleasures even 
for the middle-aged. He made a great mistake in imagining, 
down in Cornwall, that he had lived his life ; and that he had but 
to look forward to mild enjoyments, a peaceful wandering om 
wards to the grave, and the continual study of economy in do- 
mestic affairs. He was only now beginning to live. 

“And when are you coming back?” said the widow to him, 
one evening, when they were all talking of his leaving England. 

“ That I don’t know,” he said. 

“Of course,” she said, “you don’t mean to remain in the West 
Indies. I suppose lots of people have to go there for some ob- 
ject or other, but they always come back when it is attained.” 

“ They come back to attain some other object here,” said Mr. 
Roscorla. 

“Then we’ll soon find you that,” the General burst in. “No 
man lives out of England who can help it. Don’t you find in 
this country enough to satisfy you ?” 

“ Indeed I do,” Mr. Roscorla said, “ especially within the last 
few days. I have enjoyed myself enormously. I shall always 
have a friendly recollection of Brighton.” 

“ Are you going down to Cornwall before you leave ? Sir Per- 
cy asked. 

“ No,” said he, slowly. 

“ That isn’t quite so cheerful as Brighton, eh ?” 

“ Not quite.” 

He kept his word. He did not go back to Cornwall before 
leaving England, nor did he send a single line or message to any 
one there. It was with something of a proud indifference that he 
set sail, and also with some notion that he was being amply re- 
venged. For the rest, he hated “ scenes and he had encounter- 
ed quite enough of these during his brief visit to Eglosilyan. 


AN OLD LADY’S APOLOGY. 


317 


CHAPTER XL. 

AN OLD LADY’S APOLOGY. 

When Wenna heard that Mr. Roscorla had left England with- 
out even bidding her good-bye by letter, she accepted the rebuke 
with submission, and kept her own counsel. She went about her 
daily duties with an unceasing industry ; Mrs. Trelyon was aston- 
ished to see how she seemed to find time for everything. The 
winter was coming on, and the Sewing Club was in full activity ; 
but even apart from the affairs of that enterprise, Wenna Rose- 
warne seemed to be everywhere throughout the village, to know 
everything, to be doing everything that prudent help and friendly 
counsel could do. Mrs. Trelyon grew to love the girl — in her 
vague, wondering, simple fashion. 

So the days and the weeks and the months went by ; and the 
course of life ran smoothly and quietly in the remote Cornish vil- 
lage. Apparently there was nothing to indicate the presence of 
bitter regrets, of crushed hopes, of patient despair ; only Mabyn 
used to watch her sister at times, and she fancied that Wenna’s 
face was growing thinner. 

The Christmas festivities came on, and Mrs. Trelyon was pleased 
to lend her protegee a helping hand in decorating the church. 
One evening she said — 

“ My dear Miss Wenna, I am going to ask you an impertinent 
question. Could your family spare you on Christmas evening? 
Harry is coming down from London ; I am sure he would be so 
pleased to see you.” 

“ Oh, thank you, Mrs. Trelyon,” Wenna said, with just a little 
nervousness. “ You are very kind, but indeed I must be at home 
on Christmas evening.” 

“ Perhaps some other evening while he is here you will be able 
to come up,” said Mrs. Trelyon, in her gentle way. “ You know 
you ought to come and see how your pupil is getting on. He 
writes me such nice letters now ; and I fancy he is working very 
hard at his studies, though he says nothing about it.” 


318 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“ I am very glad to hear it,” Wenna said, in a low voice. 

Trelyon did come to the Hall for a few days, but he kept away 
from the village, and was seen by no one of the Rosewarnes. 
But on the Christmas morning Mabyn Rosewarne, being early 
about, was told that Mrs. Trelyon’s groom wished to see her ; and 
going down, she found the man, with a basket before him. 

“ Please, miss, Mr. Trelyon’s compliments, and would you take 
the flowers out of the cotton wool, and give them to Miss Rose- 
warne ?” 

“ Oh, won’t I !” said Mabyn, opening the basket at once, and 
carefully getting out a bouquet of camellias, snowdrops, and sweet 
violets. “Just you wait a minute, Jakes, for I’ve got a Christ- 
mas-box for you.” 

Mabyn went up-stairs as rapidly as was consistent with the 
safety of the flowers, and burst into her sister’s room. 

“Oh, Wenna, look at this! Do you know who sent them? 
Did you ever see anything so lovely ?” 

For a second the girl seemed almost frightened ; then her eyes 
grew troubled and moist, and she turned her head away. Mabyn 
put them gently down, and left the room without a word. 

The Christmas and the new year passed without any message 
from Mr. Roscorla ; and Mabyn, though she rebelled against the 
bondage in which her sister was placed, was glad that she was 
not disturbed by angry letters. About the middle of January, 
however, a brief note arrived from Jamaica. 

“ I cannot let such a time go by,” Mr. Roscorla wrote, “ what- 
ever may be our relations, without sending you a friendly word. 
I do hope the new year will bring you health and happiness, and 
that we shall in time forget the angry manner in which we parted, 
and all the circumstances leading to it.” 

She wrote as brief a note in reply, at the end of which she 
hoped he would forgive her for any pain he had suffered through 
her. Mabyn was rejoiced to find that the correspondence — wheth- 
er it was or was not meant on his part to be an offer of recon- 
ciliation — stopped there. 

And again the slow days went by, until the world began to stir 
with the new spring-time — the saddest time of the year to those 
who live much in the past. Wenna was out and about a great 
deal, being continually busy ; but she no longer took those long 
walks by herself in which she used to chat to the butterflies and 


AN OLD LADY’S APOLOGY. 


319 


the young lambs and the sea-gulls. The fresh western breezes no 
longer caused her spirits to flow over in careless gayety ; she saw 
the new flowers springing out of the earth, but it was of another 
spring-time she was thinking. 

One day, later on in the year, Mrs. Trelyon sent down the wag- 
onette for her, with the request that she would come up to the 
Hall for a few minutes. Wenna obeyed the summons, imagining 
that some business connected with the Sewing Club claimed her 
attention. When she arrived, she found Mrs. Trelyon unable to 
express the gladness and gratitude that filled her heart ; for be- 
fore her were certain London newspapers, and behold ! Harry 
Trelyon’s name was recorded there in certain lists as having scored 
a sufficient number of marks in the examination to entitle him to 
a first commission. It was no concern of hers that his name was 
pretty far down in the list — enough that he had succeeded some- 
how. And who was the worker of this miracle — who but the 
shy, sad-eyed girl standing beside her, whose face wore now a 
happier expression than it had worn for many a day ? 

“ And this is what he says,” the proud mother continued, show- 
ing Wenna a letter. “ ‘ It isn’t much to boast of, for indeed 
you’ll see by the numbers that it was rather a narrow squeak ; 
anyhow, I pulled through. My old tutor is rather a speculative 
fellow, and he offered to bet me fifty pounds his coaching would 
carry me through, which I took : so I shall have to pay him that 
besides his fees. I must say he has earned both ; I don’t think 
a more ignorant person than myself ever went to a man to get 
crammed. I send you two newspapers ; you might drop one at 
the inn for Miss Rosewarne any time you are passing ; or if you 
could see her and tell her, perhaps that would be better.’ ” 

Wenna was about as pleased and proud as Mrs. Trelyon was. 

“ I knew he could do it, if he tried,” she said, quietly. 

“ And then,” the mother went on to say, “ when he has once 
joined, there will be no money wanting to help him to his pro- 
motion ; and when he comes back to settle down here, he will 
have some recognized rank and profession such as a man ought 
to have. Not that he will remain in the army — for, of course, I 
should not like to part with him ; and he might be sent to Africa, 
or Canada, or the West Indies. You know,” she added with a 
smile, “ that it is not pleasant to have any one you care for in the 
West Indies.” 


320 


THREE FEATHERS. 


When Wenna got home again, she told Mabyn. Strange to 
say, Mabyn did not clap her hands for joy, as might have been 
expected. 

“ Wenna,” said she, “ what made him go into the army ? Was 
it to show you that he could pass an examination ? or was it be- 
cause he means to leave England ?” 

“ I don’t know,” said Wenna, looking down. “ I hope he does 
not mean to leave England.” That was all she said. 

Harry Trelyon was, however, about to leave England, though 
not because he had been gazetted to a colonial regiment. He 
came down to inform his mother that, on the fifteenth of the 
month, he would sail for Jamaica; and then and there, for the 
first time, he told her the whole story of his love for Wenna 
Rosewarne, of his determination to free her somehow from the 
bonds that bound her, and, failing that, of the revenge he meant 
to take. Mrs. Trelyon was amazed, angry, and beseeching in turns. 

At one moment she protested that it was madness of her son 
to think of marrying Wenna Rosewarne ; at another, she would 
admit all that he said in praise of her, and would only implore him 
not to leave England ; or again she would hint that she would 
almost herself go down to Wenna and beg her to marry him if 
only he gave up this wild intention of his. He had never seen 
his mother so agitated ; but he reasoned gently with her, and re- 
mained firm to his purpose. Was there half as much danger in 
taking a fortnight’s trip in a mail-steamer as in going from South- 
ampton to Malta in a yacht, which he had twice done with her 
consent ? 

“Why, if I had been ordered to join a regiment in China, you 
might have some reason to complain,” he said. “ And I shall be 
as anxious as you, mother, to get back again, for I mean to get 
up my drill thoroughly as soon as I am attached. I have plenty 
of work before me.” 

“You’re not looking well, Harry,” said the mother. 

“Of course not,” said he, cheerfully. “You don’t catch one 
of those geese at Strasburg looking specially lively when they tie 
it by the leg and cram it — and that’s what I’ve been going 
through of late. But what better cure can there be than a sea- 
voyage ?” 

And so it came about that, on a pleasant evening in October, 


AN OLD LADY S APOLOGY. 


321 


Mr. Roscorla received a visit. He saw the young man come rid- 
ing up the acacia path, and he instantaneously guessed his mis- 
sion. His own resolve was taken as quickly. 

“ Bless my soul, is it you, Trelyon ?” he cried, with apparent 
delight. “ You mayn’t believe it, but I am really glad to see you. 
I have been going to write to you for many a day back. I’ll send 
somebody for your horse ; come into the house.” 

The young man, having fastened up the bridle, followed his 
host. There was a calm and business-like rather than a holiday 
look on his face. 

“ And what were you going to write to me about ?” he asked. 

“Oh, you know,” said Roscorla, good-naturedly. “You see, 
a man takes very different views of life when he knocks about a 
bit. For my part, I am more interested in my business now than 
in anything else of a more tender character; and I may say that 
I hope to pay you back a part of the money you lent me as soon 
as our accounts for this year are made up. Well, about that 
other point — I don’t see how I could well return to England, to 
live permanently there, for a year or two at the soonest ; and — 
and, in fact — I have often wondered, now, whether it wouldn’t be 
better if I asked Miss Rosewarne to consider herself finally free 
from that — from that engagement — ” 

“ Yes, I think it would be a great deal better,” said Trelyon, 
coldly. “And perhaps you would kindly put your resolve into 
writing. I shall take it back to Miss Rosewarne. Will you kind- 
ly do so now ?” 

“ Why !” said Roscorla, rather sharply, “ you don’t take my 
proposal in a very friendly way. I imagine I am doing you a 
good turn too. It is not every man would do so in my position ; 
for, after all, she treated me very badly. However, we needn’t 
go into that. I will write her a letter if you like — now, indeed, 
if you like ; and won’t you stop a day or two here before going 
back to Kingston ?” 

Mr. Trelyon intimated that he would like to have the letter at 
once, and that he would consider the invitation afterwards. Ros- 
corla, with a good-humored shrug, sat down and wrote it, and 
then handed it to Trelyon, open. As he did so, he noticed that 
the young man was coolly abstracting the cartridge from a small 
breech-loading pistol he held in his hand. He put the cartridge 
in his waistcoat-pocket and the pistol in his coat-pocket. 

21 


322 


THREE FEATHERS. 


“Did you think we were savages out here, that you came 
armed ?” said Roscorla, rather pale, but smiling. 

“ I didn’t know,” said Trelyon. 

One morning there was a marriage in Eglosilyan, up there at 
the small church on the bleak downs, overlooking the wide sea. 
The spring-time had come round again ; there was a May-like 
mildness in the air ; the skies overhead were as blue as the great 
plain of the sea ; and all the beautiful green world was throbbing 
with the upsp ringing life of the flowers. It was just like any 
other wedding, but for one little incident. When the bride came 
out into the bewildering glare of the sun, she vaguely knew that 
the path through the churchyard was lined on both sides with 
children. Now she was rather well known to the children about, 
and they had come in a great number ; and when she passed down 
between them, it appeared that the little folks had brought vast 
heaps of primroses and violets in their aprons and in tiny baskets, 
and they strewed her path with these flowers of the new spring. 
Well, she burst into tears at this; and hastily leaving her hus- 
band’s arm for a moment, she caught up one of the least of the 
children — a small, golden-haired girl of four — and kissed her. 
Then she turned to her husband again, and was glad that he led 
her down to the gate, for her eyes were so blinded with tears that 
she could not see her way. 

Nor did anything very remarkable occur at the wedding-break- 
fast. But there was a garrulous old lady there, with bright, pink 
cheeks and silvery hair; and she did not cease to prattle to the 
clergyman who had officiated in the church, and who was seated 
next her. 

“ Indeed, Mr. Trewhella,” she said confidentially, “ I always said 
this is what would come of it. Never any one of those Trelyons 
set his heart on a girl but he got her ; and what was the use of 
friends or relatives fighting against it ? Nay, I don’t think there’s 
any cause of complaint — not I ! She’s a modest, nice, lady-like 
girl — she is indeed — although she isn’t so handsome as her sister. 
Dear, dear me, look at that girl now ! Won’t she be a prize for 
some man ! I declare I haven’t seen so handsome a girl for many 
a day. And as I tell you, Mr. Trewhella, it’s no use trying to pre- 
vent it ; if one of the Trelyons falls in love with a girl, the girl’s 
done for — she may as well give in — ” 


AN OLD LADY’S APOLOGY. 


323 


“ If I may say so,” observed the old clergyman, with a sly gal- 
lantry, “ you do not give the gentlemen of your family credit for 
the most remarkable feature of their marriage connections. They 
seem to have always had a very good idea of making an excellent 
choice.” 

The old lady was vastly pleased. 

“ Ah, well,” she said, with a shrewd smile, “ there were two or 
three who thought George Trelyon — that was this young man’s 
grandfather, you know — lucky enough, if one might judge by the 
noise they made. Dear, dear, what a to-do there was when we 
ran away ! Why, don’t you know, Mr. Trewhella, that I ran 
away from a ball with him — and drove to Gretna Green with my 
ball-dress on, as I’m a living woman ! Such a ride it was ! — why v 
when we got up to Carlisle — ” 

But that story has been told before. 


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By WILLIAM BLACK 


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HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

jgg ^Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, to any 
part of the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of the price. 


By WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS 


LITERARY FRIENDS AND ACQUAINTANCE. Illustrated. 
Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $2 50. 

THEIR SILVER WEDDING JOURNEY. Two Volume Ill’d 
Edition, $5 00 ; Regular Edition, $1 50. 

RAGGED LADY. A Novel. $1 75. 

THE STORY OF A PLAY. A Novel. $1 50. 

THE LANDLORD AT LION’S HEAD. A Novel. Illustrated. 
$1 75. 

MY LITERARY PASSIONS. $1 50. 

THE DAY OF THEIR WEDDING. A Story. Illustrated 
by T. de Thulstrup. $1 25. 

A TRAVELER FROM ALTRURIA. A Romance. $1 50. 

THE COAST OF BOHEMIA. A Novel. Illustrated. $1 50. 
THE WORLD OF CHANCE. A Novel. $1 50. 

ANNIE KILBURN. A Novel. $1 50. 

AN IMPERATIVE DUTY. A Novel. $1 00. 

AN OPEN-EYED CONSPIRACY. An Idyl of Saratoga. 

$1 00 . 

THE QUALITY OF MERCY. A Novel. $150. 

A HAZARD OF NEW FORTUNES. A Novel. Two Volumes. 
$2 00 . 

APRIL HOPES. A Novel. $150. 

THE SHADOW OF A DREAM. A Story. $1 00. 

M p?,S. 1 $f oo AN P0ETS ' Es8ays and Versions ' With 

THE MOUSE-TRAP, and Other Farces. Illustrated. $1 00. 


8vo, 


IMPRESSIONS AND EXPERIENCES. Essays. Post 
Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Top, $1 50. 

STOPS OF VARIOUS QUILLS. Poems. Illustrated by 
PyLE - 4t0 Cloth. Ornamental, Uncut Edges and 
Gilt Top, $2 50. Limited Edition on Hand-made Paper? signed 
by Author and Artist, $15 00. 8 


By WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS — Continued. 

CRITICISM AND FICTION. With Portrait. 16mo, Cloth, 

$1 00 . 

A PARTING AND A MEETING. A Story. Illustrated. 
Square 32mo, Cloth, $1 00. 

CHRISTMAS EVERY DAY, and Other Stories. Illustrated. 
Post 8vo, Cloth, $1 25. 

A BOY’S TOWN. Illustrated. Post 8vo, Cloth, $1 25. 

In Harper's “ Black and White Series" : 

MY YEAR IN A LOG CABIN. Illustrated. 32mo, Cloth, 50 
cents. 

A LITTLE SWISS SOJOURN. Illustrated. 32mo, Cloth, 50 
cents. 

FARCES : A Likely Story— The Mouse- Trap— Five o’Clock 
Tea — Evening Dress — The Unexpected Guests — A Letter 
of Introduction — The Albany Depot — The Garroters. 
Illustrated. 32mo, Cloth, 50 cents each. 

Paper- Covered Editions : 

A Previous Engagement. Illustrated. 50 cents.— A Travel- 
er from Altruria. 50 cents.— The World of Chance. 60 
cents. — The Quality of Mercy. 75 cents. — An Imperative 
Duty. 50 cents. — Annie Kilburn. 75 cents. — April Hopes. 
75 cents.— A Hazard of New Fortunes. Illustrated. $1 00. 
— The Shadow of a Dream. 50 cents. 

Mr. Howells knows how to give life and actuality to his characters. 
He seems, indeed, to be presenting us with a series of portraits. — 
Speaker , London. 

He is one of the authors whom we delight to read, and it is a great 
pleasure to take up a book without a suspicion or a desire to criticise, 
knowing that you will begin all right, go on all right, and come out all 
right. — N. Y. Herald. 


HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

2^** Any of the above works will be sent by mail, postage prepaid, 
to any part of the United States, Canada, or Mexico, on receipt of 
the price. 


By THOMAS HARDY 


Desperate Remedies. 

Two on a Tower. 

The Woodlanders. 

Far from the Madding 
Crowd. 

Wessex Tales. 

A Laodicean. 

Tess of the D’Urber- 


Jude the Obscure. 

The Hand of Ethelberta 
A Pair of Blue Eyes. 
The Mayor of Caster- 
bridge. 

The Trumpet-Major. 
Under the Greenwood 
Tree. 

Return of the Native. 
The Well-Beloved. 

Uniform Edition. Illustrated. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 

$1 50 per volume. 

Wessex Poems, and Other Verses. Illustrated by the 
Author. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1 75. 

Life’s Little Ironies. Tales. Post 8vo, Cloth, Orna- 
mental, $1 25. 

A Group of Noble Dames. Illustrated. 12mo, Cloth, 
Ornamental, $1 25. 

Fellow-Townsmen. 32mo, Cloth, 35 cents. 


Hardy has an exquisite vein of humor. ... He has a reserve 
force, so to speak, of imagination, of invention, which keeps the 
interest undimioished always, though the personages in the drama 
may be few and their adventures unremarkable. But most of °'i 
he has shown the pity and the beauty of human life, most of all he 
has enlarged the boundaries of sympathy and charity . — New York 
Tribune. 


HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers 

NEW YORK AND LONDON 

^5^ Any of the above works will be sent by mail , postage prepaid, to any 
part of the United States , Canada , or Mexico , on receipt of the price. 























